How the Other Half Lives
by Musicangel913
Summary: St. Mungo's has never interfered with the goings-on of the outside world – until now. Armed with sobering new research from one of the hospital's top Healers, Draco Malfoy realizes change is essential and seeks Hermione Granger's help to make it happen. The resulting adventures are rather surprising…
1. Healer Constantine's Revelation

Healer Janessa Constantine had seen a lot in her fifteen years at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries – after all, the Wizarding world had only just recently ended one of the worst conflicts in its known history. Janessa had dealt with injuries too horrific to describe, watched too many people die as they succumbed to the after-effects of horrible curses with no known cures…and yet, somehow she felt that this problem was the worst one yet.

At 2:27am on Monday, an infant had died at St. Mungo's. Normally, Janessa could have labeled the death as a tragic misfortune and moved on – she was a Healer, after all, and she knew that, while rare, infant mortality wasn't an impossibility. But this was different. This child was only the latest in a long string of infant deaths, and Janessa was certain they were connected somehow. She'd spent every spare minute of her time since this latest death doing research, going through the hospital's records to see if she could find something, _anything_ that would give her answers. After two sleepless nights and far too many cups of coffee, Janessa had found what she was after – and if her conclusions were correct, Wizarding Britain would hate her for it. Clutching her findings to her chest in a plain file folder, Janessa rapped smartly on her supervisor's office door.

"Come in."

Janessa obliged and found herself in the office of Healer Evangeline Richardson. Healer Richardson had been the Head of the Maternity Ward for the last twenty-five years and had been Janessa's supervisor for the last twelve – Janessa generally liked all her co-workers, but it was no secret that Healer Richardson was her favorite, the older woman having been her personal mentor since her trainee days.

"Ah, Healer Constantine." Healer Richardson smiled and looked up from the report she was writing, removing stylish silver reading glasses to reveal her bright blue eyes. Her deep auburn hair was liberally streaked with grey, but Evangeline preferred to keep it natural. "No sense being ashamed of your age," she liked to say.

"Healer Richardson." Janessa tentatively returned the smile and took a seat across from her supervisor, carefully laying the folder on the desk in front of her as she did so.

"What brings you here this evening?" Evangeline asked. "I thought you were off for the rest of the week."

"I was," Janessa admitted, "but…well, I've been working on a little side project. After that little girl passed on Monday – you know the one – I couldn't help but wonder what was going on. The infant mortality rates are far higher than usual, don't you think?"

"Hmm," Evangeline hummed in agreement. "Are you suggesting you've found something?"

"I think I have," Janessa replied. "But if I'm right…well, the repercussions are severe, and I'm not exactly sure how the general public will take it." Evangeline's eyebrows raised in obvious question.

"Perhaps you'd best explain yourself properly." Janessa nodded and tucked a loose strand of long dark hair behind her left ear.

"I did some research," she began, opening her file folder and removing its contents. "Of the infants born at St. Mungo's since January of 1998, ninety-eight percent of those who died before their first birthday were the children of pureblooded couples. I say 'before their first birthday' liberally – the vast majority of those children didn't make it beyond the first month, and many died less than a week after their births. The complications were widespread – heart or lung failure, underdeveloped organs that led to irreversible complications, half a dozen stillbirths – but the conclusion, in each case, was the same. In addition to those infant deaths, if we reach back a little further to include all magical children born in the 1990s, eighty-five percent of pureblooded children who managed to survive infancy are not showing signs of magic – either their magic is incredibly weak, unlikely to ever develop beyond the strength of a Hogwarts first-year, or they can't do magic at all."

"These statistics are certainly disturbing," Evangeline agreed, furrowing her brow as she studied Janessa's charts. "But what are these? And why did you feel the need to bring this to my attention?"

"That's a little bit on Muggle genes, DNA coding, and the consequences of inbreeding," Janessa explained, pointing to the extra papers her supervisor had indicated. "And I brought it to your attention because this is far more problematic than an unusually high percentage of Squibs." Evangeline looked up expectantly and nodded for the younger woman to continue.

"The Wizarding world is still working to recover from the after-effects of the second war," Janessa began. Evangeline couldn't disagree with her mentee there – though the Light had won, the number of casualties had been staggering. Even now, four years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Wizarding Britain still struggled – after the war, people weren't exactly inclined to marry and have children when there was so much physical and emotional rebuilding to be done, so many losses to grieve. Even after the initial celebrations and mourning had died down and most of the damages had been restored, people were still slow to expand their families – they wanted to be sure, _absolutely_ sure, that the terror was gone for good before they brought children into the world. It was a wise decision – after all, a number of Death Eaters had managed to flee from Hogwarts before the battle's end, and it was almost a full two years before they'd all finally been caught and locked away. But the consequences for Wizarding Britain's population…Evangeline's eyes widened. The more she thought about it, the more she was beginning to understand Janessa's worries.

"Hogwarts attendance projections are at an all-time low, and if this trend continues, those numbers aren't going to go up any time soon," Janessa said, extracting yet another chart that illustrated these findings. "But if these pureblooded children keep dying…"

"You mentioned something about inbreeding?" Evangeline asked.

"Yes – as you know, pureblood families who pride themselves on their lineages have been facing smaller pools from which to select their spouses with each successive generation, to the point where most, if not all purebloods are related in some way or other. If you examine the family tree of any one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families, you'll find almost all of the other Sacred Twenty-Eight names, as well as a healthy handful of other pureblood lines. But that's the thing – they're not healthy, not at all. Those families have been forced to marry their own cousins to keep their bloodlines 'pure', and the consequences are starting to show – in their offspring." Janessa removed the sheets containing her Muggle research from the stack and put them in front of her superior.

"Muggles know all about the consequences of inbreeding," she said. "Many Muggle royal families had similar issues in the past, you know – they only wanted their children to marry other royals, and so the selection was rather limited. Queen Victoria herself was a carrier for hemophilia, a deadly blood disease, and that's only one example. Many Muggle countries have laws forbidding marriage between people who are too closely related for this exact reason – children born from those unions are far more likely to have serious problems."

"And if we don't bring this issue to anyone's attention, our already low population is going to take a serious hit," Evangeline concluded.

"Exactly. Those pureblood lines are all going to die out, either because they can't bear any live offspring, or because their children who survive infancy can't perform magic. It's possible for Squibs to bear magical children, of course, but no one can predict how far down the line the magic will go before it resurfaces, and in cases like this, that magic might be permanently weakened."

"So, in essence, if we want to survive, if we want our population to grow instead of stagnating or declining, the purebloods have to stop marrying each other," Evangeline said. She paused for a moment, her brow furrowed deeply in thought. "How in Merlin's name can we do that? It's not like we can force them to look elsewhere."

"No, we can't," Janessa agreed, shaking her head slightly. Wizarding Britain had introduced a marriage law once, way back after the plague had decimated Europe – it was a necessary measure given the circumstances, but to say it hadn't been taken well was a massive understatement. Suggest something like that now, when half the population wasn't lying dead in the streets, and they were bound to start a riot…or another war.

"We can't force them to look elsewhere, but we _can_ make them aware of the risks," she said firmly. "The statistics are too alarming to ignore – even the purest of purebloods will have to agree that Wizarding Britain will slowly but surely disappear if these practices don't change."

"We can certainly make them aware of the risks, just as we can make recommendations," Evangeline added. "Blood tests, for instance, of any couples looking to marry; charts that give the statistics related to the different marriage combinations." She nodded briskly and restacked the papers.

"Draft this carefully, Healer Constantine. If we're to present this to Minister Shacklebolt, we're going to need as much information as possible."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello everyone, & welcome to my new story! This one is DH-compliant minus the epilogue, takes place 4 years after the Battle of Hogwarts, & is my spin on the 'marriage law' trope (as you can probably tell, it's not actually a marriage law at all, but still - similar idea/starting point). I already have the first few chapters done & will do my best to stick to my usual once-a-week updates.**

 **The lovely JKR owns all things HP-related, I just play. Hope to see you along for the ride - enjoy! :)**


	2. Draco

Draco Malfoy sighed and ran his free hand through his hair as he read through the _Prophet's_ feature article yet again. His eyes lingered on the statistics, by far the most disturbing bit of the lot – the percentages were far higher than even he would have guessed, and to see them in black and white was more than a little disconcerting. What tipped the scale from 'disconcerting' to 'downright alarming' was that Draco couldn't find any reason to argue their accuracy. He was familiar with many of the families affected by these infant deaths – even if they hadn't been published in the paper, the word still went around if you knew who the reliable sources were – and the latest death, the one that had started Healer Constantine's research, was the daughter of his old schoolmates, Adrian Pucey and Daphne Greengrass. Having been classmates with Daphne and Quidditch teammates with Adrian, Draco was reasonably close with the couple – as close as Slytherins could be, anyway – and he knew they'd had considerable trouble conceiving before Daphne had finally fallen pregnant. To lose the child they'd tried so hard to have was a terrible blow. To make matters worse, Adrian had an elder brother, and so his choosing to have children wasn't out of a sense of duty or any of that 'providing an heir' rubbish – he and Daphne had truly wanted to be parents, and Draco couldn't think of anyone else in his close circle who could've assumed that role better than they. Many Slytherins married to form alliances, or even because their parents had set them up as an advantageous match, but Adrian and Daphne didn't fit that mold. They'd started dating at the beginning of Draco and Daphne's fourth year (Adrian was a year ahead of them in school), and they'd been together for less than a year when everyone else tacitly agreed that if the two lovers survived the war, it would only be a matter of time before Adrian put a ring on Daphne's finger. Sure enough, their wedding had been the first Draco had attended after the war, and he'd let a rare smile come to his lips at the sight of his friends so happy and in love. Knowing that they were experiencing such loss right now hit Draco in a way he hadn't felt since his mother had died.

If he were honest with himself, Draco wasn't quite sure what to do. Unlike Adrian, Draco was an only child, which meant that the 'providing an heir rubbish' fell solely on his shoulders; like Adrian, however, Draco didn't want to marry for any sort of convenience, didn't want to find a wife who would pop out a kid just to carry on his name. For one thing, the Malfoy name was such a mess that Draco wasn't sure that it wouldn't be better just to let the name die with him, and for another, Draco was a bit of a closet romantic. He'd never admit it, of course, and he wasn't looking for an over-the-top, hearts-and flowers-type of experience, but he wanted a wife whom he could respect and admire, someone who would love him because of who he was rather than because of his riches or his surname. It was one of the reasons why he and Pansy hadn't worked out – she'd first latched onto him because of his name and all that went with it, and though that had faded as they'd grown up and become closer, the way she'd acted as if she'd had some sort of claim over him had always annoyed Draco. Secretly, he'd been relieved when he'd caught her hooking up with an older student halfway through their sixth year – they'd already split by that point, Pansy having freaked out when she'd seen Draco's Dark Mark, but it still gave him a sense of grim satisfaction to know they were over for good. Pansy was great if he needed someone to talk to, but he didn't think he could stand it if he were stuck with her for life. Girls like Pansy were best in small doses.

Where had this relatively unknown side to Draco Malfoy come from? His mother had always taught him to respect women, of course, and Lucius had treated Narcissa like a queen in the time before the Dark Lord's return – it was probably the only quality of his father's that Draco would gladly still emulate. Beyond even that, though, Draco suspected he could pinpoint the exact moment when he realized his mother's teachings were more than just words, the moment when their true extent had actually set in and left a lasting impression. Unbeknownst to Pansy – and practically everyone else, for that matter – Draco hadn't been completely inexperienced when he'd kissed her under the stars on New Year's Eve of their fourth year. No, Draco's first kiss had actually occurred more than two years earlier, and it had happened under rather unusual circumstances:

* * *

 _Draco was in a foul mood, as he often seemed to be these days. Potter and his pet sidekicks were getting on his nerves, and the thought of the nameless monster stalking the castle in the name of Salazar Slytherin freaked him out more than he'd ever admit. Why couldn't the heir just do away with all the Mudbloods and be done with it? Draco would never say so aloud – he did have an image to maintain, after all – but any creature that had the ability to Petrify a_ ghost _couldn't possibly be entirely controllable, could it? Nearly-Headless Nick didn't even_ have _any blood in him anymore, so who's to say the beast really could distinguish between the different blood types? It was nearly too much for the young second-year to think about, and he masked a shiver as he hurried as inconspicuously as possible back to the Slytherin common room._

 _Draco was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't notice the girl walking his way until it was too late. The two students collided and fell to the floor in a heap, the girl gasping as she looked up and locked eyes with Draco._

 _"Davis, don't you know that it's common courtesy to watch where you're going?" Draco snapped. Normally, he wouldn't have been so rude to a housemate, but he'd been on edge all day, and crashing into the unforgiving stone floors of the dungeons left him even more irritable than before. To his surprise and dismay, Tracey Davis didn't answer, instead bursting into tears._

 _"Davis, what the-" Looking back on it, Draco couldn't even describe his tone at seeing Tracey cry. He had next to no experience with crying girls – he was_ twelve, _for Merlin's sake! – and had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do. At the same time, however, he was still highly annoyed, and her crying only served to set him off even further._

 _"Oh, will you shut up?" he sneered. "What's your problem, anyway?" Tracey looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears._

 _"I'm s-sorry, Malfoy," she stammered. "I didn't m-mean to run into you, I swear!"_

 _"That's what they all say," Draco muttered. Tracey narrowed her eyes, and something in them seemed to snap as her tears ceased and gave way to indignant anger._

 _"Fine!" she said. "Do you really want to know what's bothering me? Parkinson's being downright awful about my family again, so I came here to get_ away _from all you judgmental arses, only to run into_ you, _who's probably the most judgmental of them all, and now I have to deal with_ that _on top of it!"_ _She pointed upwards at something Draco couldn't see. "So excuse me for having an absolutely rubbish day and knowing it's only going to get worse!" Her rant over, Tracey's tears returned, but this time, her sobs were far quieter as she scooted away from Draco and leaned back against the wall, her arms wrapped around her knees._

 _Draco frowned as he struggled to comprehend Tracey's outburst. So Parkinson was having another go at her, was she? That was a bit low – Tracey was a mere half-blood, yes, but Slytherins looked out for their own. It was one of the first things Gemma Farley, the prefect who'd led them to the common room on their very first day at Hogwarts, had impressed upon them – 'the rest of the school hates us simply because we're Slytherins, so we stick together, no matter what'. Pansy had broken that code by bullying Tracey about her heritage, and Draco wasn't sure how to feel about that. Sure, he gave that obnoxious twit Granger grief all the time, but this was different. Tracey was his housemate, and that came first._

 _His second source of confusion was Tracey's determined declaration that her day was only going to get worse. Did she think that he was going to take the same route as Pansy? She couldn't possibly be referring to his snide remarks when they'd bumped into each other, because her comment made it sound like the 'worse' was yet to come, while his remarks had already passed. What was it, then? And she'd pointed upwards – what was that about? Hoping it might solve at least part of the mystery, Draco picked up his wand and lit it, raising it up a bit to cast the beam where he needed it to go. When he caught sight of the plant hanging from the low dungeon ceiling, he groaned._

 _Mistletoe._

 _Someone – Draco suspected that ponce of a professor, Lockhart – had thought it funny to scatter magical mistletoe absolutely_ everywhere _in light of the approaching holidays. It had the nasty habit of moving around – a sprig that had been outside the Transfiguration classroom in the morning might be in the Charms corridor by dinnertime, which made the beastly stuff almost impossible to avoid – and once two people were caught under it, they couldn't walk away unless one of two things happened: the person who charmed the mistletoe in the first place took pity on them and cast the counter-spell, or they kissed. Given that he and Tracey were currently in a corridor hardly ever even used by the Slytherins, plus the fact that he wasn't one hundred percent sure that the mistletoe was actually Lockhart's fault, Draco was pretty sure option one was out. He swallowed heavily as Tracey's meaning became clear – she viewed him as the biggest tormenter of the lot, regardless of whether his comments had ever actually been directed towards her, and now she found herself with no choice but to kiss him just so she could go to bed in peace. That it could very well be her first kiss almost made it more disconcerting – just like any twelve-year-old boy, Draco wasn't into the notion of perfect fairytale kisses, but he didn't know how Tracey felt about the subject, and if she_ did _happen to be really looking forward to her first kiss, well, he'd just taken that away from her. The thought actually made him feel bad for her, both for knocking her over and for what they'd have to do to move on, and Draco didn't know what to think of that – he_ never _felt bad for other people. He was the superior one, and that was that. So why was this any different?_

 _"Davis…Tracey, I…" Draco didn't quite know what to say._

 _"I get it, Malfoy," she replied bitterly. "You're disgusted at the thought of having to stoop to my level. Don't you think I'd do something about it if I could?"_

 _Ouch. That hurt far more than Draco was willing to admit._

 _"That's not what I was going to say," he said, the softness of his voice surprising them both. Tracey looked up at him curiously._

 _"You weren't?" she asked, clearly not sure if she should believe him._

 _"No. I…I'm sorry you've gotten yourself stuck in this situation, actually." Yet again, both students were shocked – Tracey because Draco had apologized to her, and Draco himself because he'd apologized at all. He was behaving so out of character tonight, it wasn't even funny. But something deep within him agreed that he'd said the right thing, and so he didn't question or regret it._

 _"Oh." Tracey's reply was quiet, so quiet it almost went unheard. A lengthy silence followed._

 _"You know, I was hoping to finish that Charms essay before midnight," Draco eventually said, a hint of his usual snarky tone creeping back in. Perhaps he was trying to save face? It was far too late for that…_

 _"Right. Um…I guess we should…" Tracey gestured vaguely upwards to the innocuous little plant that was the cause of all their troubles._

 _"Yeah." Draco swallowed again. Once more, he found himself unable to explain why he felt so bad about this whole thing, but something within him resolved to do what he could to make it better. Slowly, so as not to startle her, he scooted towards Tracey on his knees and reached for her hand._

 _"Malfoy, what-"_

 _"Shh." He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. "Just…just go with it, alright?" He moved even closer so their knees were touching and tentatively reached up with his free hand to wipe away her tears. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and slowly began to close the distance between them, stopping only when their lips were mere inches apart._

 _"She's going to kill me," Tracey said sadly as she looked up at him. Draco couldn't help but furrow his brow in confusion._

 _"Who's going to kill you?" he asked._

 _"Parkinson. Everyone knows she's got a thing for you, and you know how she is when people touch what's hers."_

 _"Are you planning on telling her what we're about to do?" Draco wondered. He already knew her answer, but he also knew it wasn't_ her _answer she was afraid of._

 _"No."_

 _This was it – his last chance to toss her in the snake pit, so to speak. But could he honestly tell Parkinson that he'd kissed Tracey, without any remorse for the consequences? No, he couldn't, and he secretly hated himself for even considering being so cruel._

 _"I'm not going to tell either," he whispered, and before he could change his mind, he bridged what little gap remained and touched his lips to hers. Tracey gasped quietly at the contact, and the two Slytherins allowed themselves a few seconds of satisfying curiosity before they broke apart. It had been brief and to the point, but Draco had to admit it felt…nice. Strange, but nice. A little jingling noise overhead signified that the mistletoe had disappeared, no doubt off to find another unsuspecting pair, but neither Draco nor Tracey moved, studying each other in silence for a long moment._

 _"Thank you," Tracey said quietly. Draco nodded, his brain still a little fuzzy from all the thinking he'd just done and his lips lightly tingling from the kiss._

 _"We should probably head to bed," he told her. "It's got to be nearly curfew." Tracey agreed, and the two scrambled up from their positions on the floor – Draco didn't help her up; he'd already exceeded his 'considerate' quota for the day by a disturbingly large margin – but he did keep her company as they walked back to the Slytherin common room in silence. Tracey spoke the password to open the wall, and the two preteens went their separate ways without a second glance._

* * *

True to his word, Draco had never told anyone about what had transpired that night. It was a rather bittersweet memory, but it was also a sacred one, a reminder that he had both the capacity to care about other people and the ability to act on it, even when he'd been the arrogant little shit he'd been in school. He'd taken his mother's teachings to heart that night, and he'd done naught but respect the women in his life ever since, be they family, friends, or something more. Draco was a little vague on the details of what he wanted in a lasting relationship, but he knew that that respect was definitely high on the list.

Which was why he found himself at a loss of what to do as he stared at Healer Constantine's report. After the fiasco that was his family's involvement in the second Wizarding war, Draco wasn't entirely certain he wanted children – giving an innocent tot his name seemed a crime worthy of life in Azkaban after all the Malfoys had done – but he couldn't completely rule out the possibility. It was entirely possible that he didn't want children at this point in time simply because he was too young. One could argue that he, along with his peers, had been forced to grow up well before their time due to their direct involvement in the war, and they'd indeed fought for their lives while they were still teenagers. But having children seemed to be an entirely different ball game – at twenty-two, Draco felt he wasn't ready to take on the lifetime responsibility attached with becoming a parent when in many ways, he was still little more than a child himself.

In addition to his age, Draco had spent far too much of his time since the war paying for what his family had done to even consider settling down in the matrimonial sense. His trial had seen him sentenced to a year of house arrest and severe magical monitoring, and there were heavy reparations and Auror-supervised community service as well. Draco thought he deserved far worse but didn't protest, instead focusing on serving his sentence and rebuilding his shattered family name as best he could. It wasn't an easy task – people threw things at him and spit on him in the streets, cursing his name and demanding to know how he could dare to walk free when he deserved to rot in the deepest pits of hell like the rest of the Death Eater scum. Draco couldn't blame them, really, and it was all he could do to keep his head held high and repay his debts to the best of his abilities. The task was his and his alone, as neither of his parents were around anymore – his father had been locked up for life and his mother had been killed less than a year after the final battle by a group of rogue Death Eaters who'd managed to evade capture longer than most. They'd been extremely angry that Narcissa had dared lie to the Dark Lord about Potter being dead, and by the time anyone realized her life was in danger, it was too late. Draco, therefore, had had the weight of the Malfoy responsibilities thrust onto his shoulders at the same time he'd essentially become an orphan, but as he'd faced far worse during the war, he took it all in stride and did what he had to do. He now spent his time managing the Malfoy estate while taking classes on the side – he hoped to eventually secure a position as a research assistant at St. Mungo's, as Potions had always been his forte, and the classes and subsequent exams related to a Potions mastery would greatly aid him in that goal.

Draco sighed yet again as he weighed his options, then scoffed and tossed the paper aside. Who was he kidding? While it was true that his sentence was over and he now had the time to try the dating scene if he felt so inclined, what witch would even look twice at _him_? He was one of the most hated individuals in all of Wizarding Britain, for Salazar's sake! How the hell did he think he could ever find a wife when a mere invitation to coffee was more likely to leave him on the receiving end of a nasty hex than anything else?

When the answer finally came to him, Draco chuckled mirthlessly. There _was_ someone who might be able to help him…and if she agreed to do so, Draco knew they had the potential to turn the Wizarding world upside-down even more than Healer Constantine's article.

* * *

 **A/N: A little look into Draco's view on things/where he's been since the war - hope you liked it. We'll have an update from Hermione in the next chapter, & then things really get going from there.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has already come along for the ride! It's great to see so many familiar faces (usernames? lol) cropping up, & of course newcomers are always welcome too!**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	3. The Proposition

"This is horrible," Hermione Granger muttered as she absorbed the information on the front page of the _Daily Prophet._ Thought she loathed the publication on principle, she hadn't been able to ignore this morning's headline – and neither, it seemed, had anyone else; almost every table in the Ministry cafeteria sported a copy of the paper, a witch or wizard deeply engrossed in what it had to say.

"Come again?" Harry Potter looked up from the Auror report he was reading, a half-eaten piece of toast clutched in one hand. The two friends were halfway through their usual lunch meeting, but they hadn't spoken much until now.

"This," Hermione said, waving her hand at the newspaper. "A Healer from St. Mungo's has been doing research into all those infant deaths and thinks she's found something."

"Ah," Harry replied in understanding. "Yeah, everyone's been talking about that today. D'you reckon the _Prophet_ might've sensationalized it a bit, though?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione admitted as she took a bite of her muffin. "This seems too…serious, if that makes any sense. And Padma wrote this one, and you know how she is."

"True," Harry acknowledged with a nod. "Padma's actually got some integrity – if she wrote it, we can trust it." He took another bite of his toast, chewed and swallowed, and said, "What does the article say? I only heard the whispered rumors this morning."

"Whatever you heard is probably true," Hermione said. "An astonishing percentage of those deaths were children of pureblooded parents, and this Healer – Healer Constantine – thinks it's much too high to be a coincidence."

"She's probably right," Harry replied. "After all, this is her area of expertise, is it not? All that inbreeding was bound to catch up with them at some point."

"She actually makes mention of that, right here," Hermione said, pointing to the relevant passage. "Harry, she's right. This is bad – _really_ bad."

"Like, the-future-of-Wizarding-Britain-is-at-stake bad," Harry added grimly. "Do you really think people are going to listen to her, though? The war's been over for four years, yeah, but that doesn't mean some of the old pureblood families aren't still stuck in their ways. They might've accepted that they're not the only ones in Wizarding society anymore, but to actually marry or have children with someone of a different blood status? That's an entirely different question."

"And one that I can't answer," Hermione said solemnly. "Healer Constantine has started the discussion, but it's up to the citizens to finish it. The purebloods have always touted the superiority of the Wizarding world, but how far are they willing to go to save it?"

"I guess we'll just have to wait and find out." Silence reigned for several minutes as the two friends concentrated on their food.

"What about that other article, eh?" Harry asked after a while. "Think they'll ever get tired of printing that rubbish?" Hermione didn't have to ask Harry to clarify which article he meant – the headline, _Golden Trio Hero Spotted in Diagon Alley – is Ron Weasley Finally Back for Good?_ had caught her eye the moment she'd picked up the paper. As usual, she'd laughed and ignored the article in favor of the more interesting – not to mention factual – report from Healer Constantine.

"I think we both know whichever Weasley the reporter supposedly 'spotted', it wasn't Ron," Hermione said with a snort. The joke had admittedly been funny the first time, but now, after four years, it was just ridiculous.

After the war, there had been a lot of rebuilding to do, both physically and emotionally, and while the former was straightforward enough (albeit time-consuming and expensive), the latter was not. So many people had been seriously injured or killed over the course of the war, and those who were fortunate enough to come out on the other side with all of their limbs and faculties intact had had to figure out how to grieve. Even the great Harry Potter and his friends hadn't been spared from loss – Lupin, Tonks, and Fred had been among those killed during the Battle of Hogwarts, and they'd lost countless others along the way. Sirius, Moody, Dobby…the list seemed endless. Everyone tackled the grieving process differently: Molly Weasley spent so much time in the kitchen that she was donating surplus baked goods to shelters for months; Andromeda Tonks threw herself into the care of her grandson Teddy; and Percy Weasley, who'd still been trying to reconcile his decision to all but abandon his family for nearly two years, turned to his quill, penning a memoir that surely would've been a bestseller had he not felt it too personal to actually share with anyone else. George, whom they could argue had been hit harder than anyone due to the death of his twin, was inconsolable for months until Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan, unable to bear the sight of their once-jovial friend so down in the dumps, had teamed up and given him a metaphorical – and perhaps physical – slap upside the head, demanding to know if Fred would approve of the way he was acting. The intervention had been just what George had needed, and he'd thrown himself back into the joke shop with a fervor the likes of which had never been seen before, not even in the shop's early days when Fred had still been alive. With Lee and Angelina's help, the shop was doing better than ever, and seeing George smile wasn't such a rarity anymore.

Ron, however, hadn't been able to figure out how to grieve. In spite of his fears – which were certainly well-founded, given how much his family had been through – he'd never really prepared himself for what would happen if someone he loved were to die, and when it had actually happened, the youngest Weasley son hadn't known what to do. Given his position as Harry Potter's best friend, Ron suddenly had the hero status and attention he'd always craved…except now he'd learned the hard way that the cost wasn't worth it. All Ron had wanted was to be able to grieve, to be given time to come to terms with what had happened, but with the press constantly knocking on his door asking him to recount tales of the war and people hounding him in the streets, it was impossible. Ron had always been a bit of a third wheel, overshadowed by Harry's fame and Hermione's brilliance, but the redhead wasn't stupid, and he quickly acknowledged that what he'd always thought he'd wanted wasn't everything it was cracked up to be. He, Harry, and Hermione had their moments alone in Grimmauld Place, but outside those four walls, they were hounded relentlessly from dawn until dusk. Finally, after the hundredth photograph of him ordering an ice cream at Fortescue's and the thousandth variation of _"What is your relationship with Miss Granger? Are there wedding bells in your future?",_ Ron had decided enough was enough – he wasn't getting what he needed at home, and so he'd decided that the best thing to do was to try to find it elsewhere. He'd packed up his things, moved to America, and hadn't been back since. Harry and Hermione had been sad to see him go, but on the plus side, their friend had gotten exponentially better at staying in touch, and he was happier than he'd been in all their years of knowing him – though the Americans had been well aware of the goings-on in Britain, they knew next to nothing of the finer details, including the names of most of the key players, and so Ron was able to gain both employment and friends on his own merit. Hermione had just received a letter from him the other day, in fact – he'd passed his most recent set of Auror training exams with flying colors, and he and his girlfriend had just celebrated their first anniversary. They'd had their rough times, of course, but Hermione was thrilled that her dear friend was doing so well. These 'sightings' of Ron had been happening ever since he'd left, Wizarding Britain's public eager for the 'Golden Trio' to reunite once more, but Harry and Hermione knew the truth – Ron wasn't going to come back to England until he was ready, and even if he did, it would probably just be for a visit. The niche he'd carved for himself in America was just what he'd needed, and there was no reason for him to give that up.

At first, Harry and Hermione were devastated by Ron's decision. Ron had been Harry's first real friend, and this separation felt far worse than when Ron had been mad at him during the early stages of the Triwizard Tournament, or when he had briefly left them during the Horcrux hunt. However, Harry had understood that forcing his friend to stay would've been the cruelest possible thing for him to do, and though they hadn't seen each other much since Ron's departure, their friendship had actually strengthened with distance. Hermione, of course, had been dealing with the added confusion of her feelings for Ron – she'd had a crush on him for years, and she'd felt the thrill of it from the top of her head to the tips of her toes when they'd finally kissed during the battle – but when she really sat back and thought about it, she realized how wrong it had all been. She and Ron had butted heads for years, arguing fiercely over the stupidest little things straight from the start, and while he'd always be one of her best friends, they would never have worked as a couple – they were just too different. On top of that, Hermione hadn't fully forgiven Ron for his desertion, and the kiss had happened at such a tense moment that it was entirely possible the embrace was merely a product of pent-up frustration and anxiety, a reaction to the seemingly impossible idea that there might still be some good in the world, rather than an expression of any actual feelings. After the battle, they'd been so busy mourning that pursuing a relationship had fallen by the wayside, and whenever they bothered to consider it, neither saw the point in attempting to make it more of a priority. They'd parted ways as friends, and they were still friends when Ron had left for the States. It was the easiest resolution to a problem they'd ever faced, and Hermione saw no reason to complain – Ron had perhaps been her first love, but he'd always been her best friend, and that was far more important.

"It was probably George," Harry chuckled, bringing Hermione's thoughts back to earth. "He'd probably think it was funny to alter his hair a bit to make it seem like Ron had come back."

"Harry, George is nowhere near as tall as Ron," Hermione replied with a laugh.

"Exactly. George would look absolutely ridiculous trying to pull that off, and the reporters would _still_ believe him." Harry finished his tea and checked his watch.

"I should probably get back," he said. "These reports aren't going to read themselves – and Merlin knows some of these idiots could use your editing expertise."

"I only reserve that for people I like," Hermione replied cheekily, shooting Harry a grin as he collected his things and stood. He chuckled again as he deposited his rubbish in the bin and leaned down to drop a kiss on her cheek.

"Good thing you like me, then," he said. "Have a good afternoon. Don't forget, Gin's expecting you at seven."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Hermione said fondly. Her weekly dinners with Harry and Ginny were something she cherished deeply.

"Later, Hermione."

* * *

Later that afternoon, Hermione sat in her office, buried up to her elbows in paperwork and textbooks. She used the term 'office' loosely – Hermione didn't actually work for the Ministry at all, as she was far too distrusting of the organization after all the hardships she and her friends had gone through thanks to its incompetence. The office, as well as unlimited access to the Ministry library, had been gifted to her after the war, and while she found it a bit silly, she couldn't deny that the quiet space was a lovely place to work. The library had been exceptionally helpful with regards to Lupin's Law, a joint project of hers and Harry's that they hoped would afford werewolves the equal rights and fair treatment they deserved. Remus Lupin had been a mentor, a teacher, a fighter, and family in all but name, and the two friends had worked tirelessly in what little spare time they had to see that law come to light. Lupin's Law had finally passed less than a month ago, and while the implementations – and acceptance – would take much longer, it was definitely a start. A knock on the door interrupted Hermione's thoughts, and she looked up.

"Come in."

"Afternoon, Granger."

"Oh – hey, Malfoy," Hermione replied, indicating with a careless sweep of her hand that he should sit. Draco did so, lounging back in her visitor's chair and lightly tapping his fingers on the armrest as if he'd done it a thousand times before – which, in reality, he had. In the years since the war, the two hadn't exactly become friends, but they'd struck up a cordial enough relationship – they'd both recognized that the schoolyard grudges and petty name calling were better left in the past, especially after they'd both experienced so much worse. Draco had already been doubting Voldemort and his cause for quite some time when Harry and his friends had been captured and brought to his home, and that day had only cemented what he – even just subconsciously – had already known: blood was blood. No matter whose it was, it all ran the same – sticky, red, and with that nauseating coppery tang that he couldn't get out of his nose for months after even the final battle had ended. Hermione's screams had haunted his nightmares for ages after the night she was tortured in his home, and he'd never forget the sight of the thin line of blood running down her neck as his mad aunt pressed that wickedly sharp dagger into her throat. Hermione, for her part, had testified alongside Harry at Draco's trial, their testimonies playing a huge role in his comparatively light sentence. Draco often found himself in the former Gryffindor's office when he needed to blow off some steam or get away from the pressures of the outside world. He couldn't exactly explain _why_ – there were several former Slytherins who also worked in the Ministry, after all – but at the very least, Granger was an excellent listener. That she usually kept a fully stocked stash of sweets in her desk didn't hurt either.

"Something I can do for you?" Hermione asked after a moment. Malfoy shrugged.

"Maybe." He paused to examine her collection of spare quills, kept in a pretty little blue and white vase Luna had sent for her birthday the year before. "You've seen the _Prophet,_ I assume?"

"Who hasn't?" Hermione replied dryly, setting her quill and notes aside for later. If she were being honest, she could use a break. Malfoy nodded and took a deep breath.

"I need your help, Granger."

"My help?" Hermione repeated. "Whatever for?"

"I don't suppose you've got any chocolate in your stash today?" Draco replied with a grin. Hermione snorted.

"Don't think I believe for one second that you came all the way here just to steal my chocolate," she said as she opened the second drawer on the left and retrieved her basket of sweets. She shuffled through the contents with her hands. "Just chocolate frogs today – not all of us can afford that fancy stuff Honeydukes keeps in their back room, you know." It was Draco's turn to snort.

"You know perfectly well that I happen to like chocolate frogs, Granger," he said with a haughty sniff. "Hand it over." Hermione rolled her eyes but tossed him a frog, which he caught one-handed and opened without further hesitation. He chuckled lightly and shook his head when he saw the accompanying collector's card.

"Well, look who it is," he said smugly, holding up the card. "One Hermione Jean Granger." Hermione groaned.

"Ugh, stop," she moaned. "As if I haven't already seen about five hundred of those…"

"Order of Merlin, First Class," Draco read, deliberately ignoring his companion's plea. "Oft-called 'Brightest Witch of the Age'… _instrumental_ in the defeat of You-Know-Who…"

"I still think it's ridiculous that they can't even put Voldemort's name on a bloody chocolate frog card," Hermione muttered, snatching the card from Draco's hand and tossing it to the side. "Now, will you please tell me what you _really_ want?" Draco bit the head off his frog and chewed thoughtfully.

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you, you being the 'Brightest Witch of the Age' and all that, that Healer Constantine's findings affect me more than most," he began once he'd swallowed.

"Understandable," Hermione replied. "The Sacred Twenty-Eight would be in more danger than other purebloods."

"And the latest infant death is proof of that. It was Daphne Greengrass' daughter, remember her? She was our classmate in school."

"Oh, that's so sad," Hermione said softly.

"It was – she and her husband have been trying for children since they got married, and the likelihood that they'll even be able to conceive again, never mind deliver a healthy child, is slim to none." Draco paused to take another bite of his chocolate, watching as Hermione digested this information.

"You'd be in the same situation, wouldn't you?" Hermione asked after a moment. When Draco nodded, she said, "What are you going to do about it?" Draco let out a long, slow breath.

"Granger…how connected are you with the Muggle world?" Hermione frowned.

"What exactly do you mean?" she asked. Draco sighed and polished off the last of his frog.

"Granger, how often have you gone out in the last four years?" Hermione cocked her head to one side.

"Gone out?" she asked. "I go out all the time – with Harry and Ginny, with Luna-"

"No, Granger," Draco interrupted, looking mildly impatient. "How many times have you _gone out,_ gone out – as in, like a date."

"What exactly does that have to do with anything?" Hermione demanded.

"It has a lot to do with anything, actually," Draco retorted. "Now will you just answer the damn question?"

"I haven't been on a date in nearly two years – not a serious one, anyway – but you already knew that," Hermione said with a huff. "And I still don't understand why-"

"And there's a reason you haven't done so, isn't there?" Draco pressed, deliberately ignoring Hermione's unfinished question.

"Yes…and you know that as well," Hermione said, her eyes narrowed. Damn her for confessing everything to him at the Ministry Christmas party last year! She blamed nostalgia and the punch, and especially him for having such a bloody good memory…

"Because of the two blokes you did bother to go out with, the first couldn't relate to anything you'd been through, as he hadn't participated in the war at all, and the second only-"

"Wanted to say he'd had dinner with the Brightest Witch of the Age, I _know,"_ Hermione hissed through clenched teeth. "I am perfectly aware of my borderline pathetic failures when it comes to dating, you know. Now, was there a point to all this?"

"It's not pathetic to want someone who understands what you've been through," Draco said softly, catching her by surprise. New as their quasi-friendship was, it was oftentimes far too easy to forget that Draco was one of only a small handful of people who _could_ relate to everything she'd been through during the last bit of the war.

"I…I'm sorry, Malfoy," Hermione said, truly sounding like she meant it. "You must've brought it up for a reason – something related to your own perpetually single status, I'm guessing?"

"Spot on, as usual," Draco replied with a slight chuckle. "You see, Granger, our situations really aren't all that different – except while you've got paparazzi-mongers hammering down your door, I've had to deal with girls who just want to be with a bad-boy reformed Death Eater – which I have _zero_ interest in being, thanks very much."

"But what does that have to do with the Muggle world?" Hermione asked, rerouting the conversation back to Draco's original inquiry. The wizard in question raised his eyebrows.

"Honestly, Granger, you're smart, aren't you? Aside from those girls, most of Wizarding Britain won't even give me the time of day if they don't have to. What makes you think I could ever get an honest date under those circumstances?" Hermione's eyes widened as she suddenly made the connection.

"You want to…are you trying to tell me you want to try looking in the Muggle world?" she asked, looking – and sounding – properly shocked. Draco shrugged in a way Hermione supposed was meant to seem nonchalant but was actually masking his true feelings on the situation.

"Unless you've got a better idea," he said.

"And you're asking me for help because in order to meet Muggles, you'll need to understand a bit more about the Muggle world," Hermione surmised.

"Exactly." The two were silent for a long moment. Then…

 _"Merlin,_ Draco, do you know how crazy a question that is?" Hermione demanded. Draco knew she really meant it because she'd called him by his given name, something she almost never did except in extreme circumstances.

"I understand it's a bit of a tall order, yes," he replied.

"A bit of a tall order?" Hermione repeated faintly. "That's the understatement of the century, Malfoy – honestly, I know you have a rudimentary knowledge of some things, but how much time have you actually spent in the Muggle world? Next to none, unless you've told me wrong – do you realize just how much you'd have to learn?"

"I do, Granger," Draco said with a sigh, "but I'm out of options. I'm not too keen on the idea of leaving the country, so unless you happen to know a single witch who'd happily ignore my less-than-stellar past, I think I need to set my sights elsewhere – at least the Muggles have no idea who I am."

"I can understand that, at least," Hermione admitted. "It is nice to be able to walk down the street without someone else accosting you every two steps."

"Think of it as a trial run of your project," Draco suggested. "You know you'll be able to convince the Wizengamot and the Board of Governors that much easier if you have solid evidence, and who better than to test it on than someone like me?"

"You'd really do that for me?" Hermione asked, a small smile creeping onto her face.

"You're going to present the idea eventually anyway, so I might as well help you out," Draco said, once again affecting that air of indifference. "Merlin knows I owe you anyway."

"No more of that," Hermione scolded lightly, but inside, she was thrilled.

Hermione's pet project – and her biggest dream – was to revamp the curriculum at Hogwarts, as it pertained to wizard-Muggle relations. As it stood, Muggle-borns were thrown headfirst into the Wizarding world without so much as a by-your-leave and expected to make do – Hermione, being the exceptionally bright child she was, had done alright, but after the initial visit from Professor McGonagall explaining the Wizarding world to herself and her parents, she'd been completely on her own. Oh, she had no doubt McGonagall would've made herself available had Hermione expressed the desire to talk, but Hermione would've had to have made that move herself. There were little to no resources for Muggle-born students at Hogwarts, and while everyone was in the same boat when it came to learning magic in the classroom, those students were at a distinct disadvantage when it came to everything else. Students from Wizarding backgrounds didn't have to cope with the fact that creatures they'd previously thought only existed in fairytales were suddenly real, that some broomsticks really could fly, or that paintings could move. They didn't have to learn to understand things like Quidditch, Galleons, or Apparition.

The reverse was true as well – Hermione had taken Muggle Studies during her third year, and while she'd liked the professor well enough, she could safely say it was a joke of a class. The material was outdated and covered very little that would actually be useful in a real life situation – for instance, they'd spent nearly two weeks covering the inner workings of plugs, but they'd barely devoted ten minutes to the topic of the telephone. It wasn't a mandatory class, and not many people pursued it beyond O.W.L. level, as an N.E.W.T. in the subject wasn't required in most cases. Mr. Weasley, who'd worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office for longer than Hermione had been alive, still got ridiculously excited over mundane things like toasters and batteries, and Muggle Studies coursework wasn't even a requirement if one wanted to be Minister of Magic. Hermione's goal was to change all that. She knew from a brief post-war traveling stint that the Salem Witches' Institute, one of the many magic schools in America, had a mandatory core course that covered _both_ cultures, leaving their students prepared to pursue life in either society with ease, and Hermione hoped to implement something similar at Hogwarts. Not only would it help even the playing field a little bit, but she also hoped a better understanding of Muggle and Wizarding cultures would help ease the blood-related strains that still lingered after the war. It was a lofty ambition, to be sure, and she needed all the help she could get if she wanted to convince the right people that her project was a good idea. Draco was right when he said he'd be an ideal case study – if Hermione could get _him_ to understand the Muggle world, her lessons would work on anyone.

"Alright," she said finally. "Give me a few days to decide what we should go over and in what order, and we'll get started."

* * *

 **A/N: Figured I'd give you all this chapter a few days early - now you have the full premise of the story. If you ever have any suggestions for things you'd like to see Draco learn, I'd love to hear them! Next up: dinner with the Potters. The Salem Witches' Institute culture course idea is also mentioned in part 6 of my AU series, if you're wondering why that sounds familiar - I thought it'd be a perfect project for Hermione to expand on.**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy - hope you're all having a lovely weekend! :)**


	4. Dinner with the Potters

"Harry? Gin?"

"In the kitchen, 'Mione!"

Hermione smiled and hurried down the steps to the basement kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, greeting her best girlfriend with a hug as she set a plate of cookies on the scrubbed wooden table.

"I brought biscuits," she said, gesturing towards the plate. Ginny grinned.

"Excellent – your biscuits are the best!" she declared. Hermione couldn't help but giggle a little – Ginny was very different from Ron in many ways, but not in her love of dessert.

"Nothing too fancy tonight – just some chicken and potatoes," Ginny said, pulling open the oven door a little so she could check on the aforementioned food. "Hope that's alright."

"I'm sure it'll be lovely," Hermione replied. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Ginny shook her head.

"Not at the moment, no – Kreacher's already set the table, and the food still needs a few more minutes. Just make yourself comfortable." Hermione obliged, settling into her usual seat and chatting amiably with Ginny while they waited for the meal to finish cooking.

It was rather remarkable how much had changed about the Order's former headquarters since the end of the war. Harry had recast the Fidelius Charm with Hermione as Secret-Keeper and promptly gone to work, all but gutting the house as he redid it from top to bottom. He'd brought in experts to help with the removal of the remaining Dark objects, and they'd finally solved the problem of Walburga Black's portrait by simply knocking down the wall on which it hung. There were no more house-elf heads in the stairwell, no more doxy nests in the curtains, and no more old robes lurking in wardrobes and attempting to strangle unsuspecting victims. The troll's leg umbrella stand was gone, replaced by a surprisingly attractive wooden coat stand Harry had found at a local flea market and rebuffed himself, and Harry had replaced all of the house's appliances, even going so far as to wire the house for electricity and installing a telephone and computer. When Hermione had inquired after this last decision, Harry had admitted that, after the number of people he'd lost during the war, he didn't like the idea of not being able to get in touch with anyone. To be sure, most of his acquaintances were far better attune to the likes of owl post and the Floo network, but Harry had decided it was better to be safe than sorry. He'd also struck up a tentative but growing correspondence with his cousin Dudley, the pair working to repair their relationship now that the war was over and they were both old enough to make their own decisions, and Muggle methods of communication were the easiest way for them to keep in touch.

Ginny had taken to all the changes surprisingly well, especially since she'd barely ever even set foot in a Muggle home before. She admitted that the appliances made things a lot easier – she especially liked the dishwasher, as she'd always hated dish duty at the Burrow – and she learned how to use the telephone much faster than Ron had done back when Harry had given him the Dursleys' number early in their Hogwarts career. The electric lights made Teddy's frequent visits easier – yes, it had been quite a nuisance when the little boy had figured out how the lights turned on and off and had subsequently spent almost an hour playing with the switch, but it was far better than treating a curious toddler for burns due to fingers stuck in hot candle wax. Teddy aside, the lights also made the house brighter, which it desperately needed after being shrouded in gloom for so long. New furniture, fresh paint, the personal touches of a young couple…it was a completely different house, and Hermione found something new to love about it every time she visited.

"Where's Harry?" she asked then, finally stopping to wonder why her dark-haired friend wasn't in the room.

"Shower," Ginny replied, lifting a spoon to her lips to taste-test the sauce she'd made. She nodded in apparent satisfaction, stirred the sauce once more, and added, "He was stuck with the trainees today, and you know how he gets when _that_ happens." Hermione chuckled, knowing exactly what Ginny meant – Harry had never been a big fan of working with the trainees, and he always went twice as hard on them in the dueling arena because of it.

As if summoned by Ginny's words, Harry stepped into the kitchen, his hair still damp from his shower and sticking up a little at the back despite his best efforts to comb it flat. Harry suspected that no matter how old he got or how hard he tried, he'd never quite win the fight against his unruly mop.

"Hermione!" he said happily. "Sorry to keep you waiting – have you been here long?"

"Not at all, Harry," Hermione replied, standing to accept her friend's hug. "And I brought biscuits, just like I promised."

"You're the best," Harry said fondly. He then turned to Ginny, who had just taken the chicken out of the oven.

"Smells wonderful, love," he said, stepping closer to peck her cheek. Ginny thanked him and reciprocated the gesture, and Hermione couldn't help but smile softly at the sight of her two best friends so happy. Harry and Ginny had gotten married in a small, private ceremony shortly after Ginny had finished Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley had been upset that she hadn't been able to plan the big dream wedding for her only daughter, but Harry and Ginny had insisted on all but eloping, saying it was the only way to avoid their wedding hitting the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ for weeks on end, a prospect neither of them wanted in the slightest. Their only other viable option – getting married abroad – wasn't thrilling either, and so they'd wed in the Burrow's orchard, their only witnesses their closest family and friends. It was quiet, it was simple, and it was one of Hermione's most treasured memories, because it was the first time she'd ever seen Harry truly happy, truly himself. No Voldemort, no Chosen One, no future-of-the-Wizarding-world-in-his-hands…just Harry.

"Shall we?" Ginny asked, spreading her hands, one still engulfed by an oven mitt, to indicate the waiting food. The three friends served themselves and settled around the table, chatting amiably as they continued what had long ago become a weekly tradition.

"So, what's Kreacher up to this evening?" Hermione asked in between bites of chicken.

"He's at Andromeda's again," Harry replied as he buttered his potatoes. "Teddy's been acting up lately, and it's all she can do to keep up with him."

"He can definitely be quite a handful," Ginny agreed, and Hermione nodded as well. Andromeda was doing the best she could, but Teddy was just as rambunctious as his late mother and twice as mischievous (if such a thing were even possible), and sometimes he was just too much for the older woman to handle alone. Kreacher had proven himself to be surprisingly good with the little boy, and he often went to the Tonks home during the friends' weekly dinners. They'd made clear to him long ago that this was one meal he wasn't allowed to serve – all three of them were reasonably good cooks, and they wanted one night just to themselves to cook, socialize, and have fun. Kreacher could have the kitchen every other meal of the week, but this one night was theirs and theirs alone.

"Anything interesting happen this afternoon, 'Mione?" Harry asked. "I'm sure Ginny mentioned I was in with the trainees…"

"She did," Hermione said, laughing a little. "And how many of them were star struck by being in the same room as the famous Harry Potter?"

"Oh, that's enough, you," Harry said, rolling his eyes as he swatted Hermione's arm with his napkin. "The trainees need to stop having heart failure every time I walk into a room, otherwise they'll never make it in the field."

"And that's why they have you to whip them into shape," Ginny said with a wink.

"Alright, alright…enough already!" Harry exclaimed. "I believe I asked how _Hermione's_ afternoon was…" The girls laughed uproariously, and even Harry was good-natured enough to join in.

"My afternoon was lovely, thank you," Hermione said once her laughter had subsided. "I got quite a bit of work done, and I found a few things in my latest reading that might be helpful in my curriculum development."

"That's great!" Harry said enthusiastically. He and Ginny knew all about Hermione's project and supported it wholeheartedly. As Harry had been just as ignorant of the magical world as Hermione when they'd first started at Hogwarts, he was especially invested in seeing her work succeed – he'd always hated how behind he'd felt whenever Ron had had to explain things that children who'd grown up in Wizarding households knew almost instinctually.

"If you ever need help testing any of your proposed lessons, let me know," Ginny said. "Merlin knows I've learned a lot just from our revamping of Grimmauld Place."

"It's funny that you say that, Gin," Hermione replied thoughtfully. "I've had another volunteer as well."

"Oh? Who?"

"Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy? Really?" Ginny leaned forward a little, clearly interested in what Hermione had to say. "What brought that about?"

"The article about the research at St. Mungo's, actually."

"Oh really? Do tell."

"I think we have the beginning and the ending of this story, but not the middle," Harry said with a slight frown. "Mind filling us in?"

"Of course not," Hermione said with a little laugh. "Although you should know by now that I do tend to get ahead of myself…anyway, Malfoy read the article, and he seems to have taken it to heart – his family's one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, you know, so the research affects him more than most, and the most recent death was actually the child of his close friends."

"Oh, how sad!" Ginny said softly. "It must be so much worse when it's someone you know."

"I think he said the same thing," Hermione agreed, "and I think he's actually seriously considering what Healer Constantine had to say. His friends' child's death has shown him how close to home this whole thing really is, and he sounded quite sincere when he said he wants to do something about it."

"And what _does_ he want to do about it?" Harry inquired.

"Hang on a minute…" Ginny gazed quizzically at Hermione, her eyes widening as she mentally replayed the conversation and put two and two together. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting? Did _Draco Malfoy_ seriously ask you for help finding a _Muggle girlfriend?"_

"Basically, yes," Hermione replied. "As I said before, I really think he's taken Healer Constantine's message to heart and doesn't want to put himself in the same horrible situation as his friends. I don't know if he ever plans to have children, but if he does, the chances of them being healthy are almost nonexistent if he carries on the way his family usually does."

"It's a fair observation," Harry commented, setting his utensils atop his empty plate and unwrapping the plate of biscuits Hermione had brought. "That article was full of statistics, and while other purebloods might be alright marrying a half-blood, the Sacred Twenty-Eight are still at risk unless they look to Muggles or Muggle-borns." He selected a cookie and bit into it, humming appreciatively as he chewed.

"And Malfoy has the added complication of post-war baggage," Hermione added as she and Ginny also chose cookies. "Just as I'm fawned over for my 'war heroine' status, most people still look down on him for his past. He thinks it'd be better to look in the Muggle world because no one knows who he is there."

"Does he realize just how big a request that is?" Ginny said after a moment.

"I did warn him before I agreed," Hermione replied.

"But he's looking to pass himself off as a _Muggle,"_ Ginny stressed. "There's far more to it than just understanding the currency or wearing Muggle clothing. Does he know about takeaway? Has he ever ridden a bus, or the Tube? What do Muggles study in school? How do they prepare tea, or cook dinner? What do Muggle women do for-"

"I think you've made your point, Gin," Hermione said hastily. She'd noticed that poor Harry looked more than a little embarrassed, and she could see why – she was pretty sure Ginny's last question was going to end with either 'cramps' or 'contraceptives', and she was equally sure that Harry wouldn't want to be subjected to either of _those_ particular answers.

"He's going to have to learn a _lot_ if he's looking to have a Muggle girlfriend, or eventually a Muggle wife," Ginny said matter-of-factly, as if she hadn't just thoroughly embarrassed her husband. "People always remember the big things, but they don't necessarily think to cover the everyday details. Look at my dad – he's been working with Muggle things all his adult life and still acts like a child at Christmas when someone gives him a battery!"

"And batteries are quite common in the Muggle world," Hermione acknowledged with a chuckle. "Yes, I understand how big a task this is – but just think, if I can get _Draco Malfoy_ successfully acclimated to the Muggle world…"

"That will say a lot for your curriculum plans," Harry finished.

"Exactly!" Hermione exclaimed. "He really is the ideal case study."

"I can't disagree with you there," Ginny said. "So what's your plan?"

"Well, I haven't had very long to think about it yet, but I think we should sit down and talk about what he already knows, first – there's no point in wasting time going over things he already understands," Hermione said. "I'll probably do instruction one-on-one first, and then once I think he's ready, I'll introduce him to a few of my university friends – since I only regularly spent time with a very small group, that should be a good start so he's not too overwhelmed."

"That sounds reasonable," Harry said. "Much better than throwing him headfirst into central London on his own."

"London's no joke," Ginny said. "We've been spending most of our free time there since the war and I _still_ find myself in awe every time we go."

"You'll keep us updated, won't you?" Harry asked. "And if there's anything you need, please do let us know – even if it's just new suggestions for lessons, we'd be happy to help."

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione replied, smiling softly at her oldest friend. "You as well, Gin – I know this is a huge undertaking, and it's great to have your support."

"Hey, if there's one thing I've learned since going to Hogwarts, it's that you usually know what you're doing," Harry joked. The girls laughed heartily, and conversation turned to other topics as they sat back to enjoy the rest of their evening.

* * *

 **A/N: Another chapter for you - I'm on a roll!**

 **Amanda: Thank you for all your lovely reviews! I don't think I've acknowledged all of your kind words yet - my sincerest apologies, I really do appreciate them!**

 **Guest: Thank you for the suggestions! Some I'd thought of, but some I hadn't, & they're all great ideas - I'll try to incorporate as many as I can.**

 **Thank you to _everyone_ who has followed/faved/reviewed since last time - love you all!**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please let me know what you think so far, & enjoy! :)**


	5. Star Cottage

Hermione decided not to contact Draco especially about his Muggle lessons – he dropped by her office frequently enough that she figured there was no point, and sure enough, the following Monday at lunchtime found him in her company once again.

"Afternoon, Granger," he said as he dropped gracefully into what had unofficially become 'his' chair and started examining the new quills she'd bought herself that weekend. "Hope you don't mind – I needed a break from moonstones."

"Not at all," Hermione replied, setting aside the book she was reading. Her lessons for Draco were directly related to her project, after all, so it wasn't like he was really interrupting anything.

"I'm actually glad you stopped by," she continued, extracting a piece of parchment from the pile on her desk. "I've started outlining your Muggle lessons."

"Already?" Draco looked both interested and mildly impressed. "Although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised – this is you we're talking about, after all." He winked at her to show that he only meant the comment in jest, then added, "So…what have you got?"

"Well, I thought we'd start the lessons one-on-one, just the two of us," Hermione began. "We'll have to get you interacting with real Muggles eventually, but I'm not going to do that without giving you a solid foundation first."

"That sounds fair," Draco agreed. "Go on."

"I have plenty of things I could teach you, but there doesn't seem to be a point in me doing so without at least a basic understanding of what you already know. When I write the lessons for Hogwarts' use, of course, I'll have to assume the incoming students know nothing so that they all learn everything they should, but it seems silly to do that with you if you already know certain things. It would make more sense to tailor the lessons to your individual needs."

"Well, I don't know very much," Draco cautioned. "My home is wired for electricity and the like, but beyond that, I'm just as much a beginner as your future students."

"Well, then I suppose we'll just start with the…hang on." Hermione stopped and stared at the young man seated across from her as his last statement really sunk in. "Did you just say your home is _wired for electricity?"_

"I did." Draco nodded, his lips twisting into an amused little smirk at Hermione's obvious confusion.

"But…but the manor…"

"Merlin, Granger, do you never read the papers?" Draco demanded, all traces of amusement gone. "I don't live in the manor anymore."

"You…you don't?"

"Do you honestly think I could?" His tone was softer this time, laced with a tinge of regret.

"I…no, I suppose not," Hermione replied, slumping in her chair a little and fiddling with her quill. "I'm sorry, Draco – I don't read the papers if I can help it, so I'm afraid I know nothing of your current living situation."

"To be fair, Granger, I don't know where you live, either," Draco said. "We've never discussed it, so don't go beating yourself up about it." He paused and thought for a moment. "Perhaps you need to see the house, actually – it will give you a better understanding of what I know and what I don't, and I'm sure you'll have to check to make sure it's acceptable by Muggle standards at some point."

"I suppose you do have a point," Hermione acknowledged. The thought of visiting Draco's private residence made her a bit nervous, but he'd outwardly acknowledged that he no longer lived in Malfoy Manor, and that lessened the anxiety somewhat. "When shall I drop by?"

"I have class this afternoon, but I'm free tomorrow, if you're not averse to starting right away," Draco said. "Shall we say one o'clock?"

"One o'clock is fine," Hermione agreed. "As this is my only project at the moment, my schedule's pretty open – I'm sure I'll have a few meetings to worry about once the finer details get underway, but for now, I'm all yours."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow at one." Draco scribbled the Apparition coordinates onto a spare bit of parchment for Hermione, bid her good day, and left the office. Hermione, for her part, immediately turned to her list and began muttering to herself, trying to decide on the best starting point while simultaneously wondering about the decision that had led someone like Draco to the world of electricity. Some wonders never cease.

* * *

The next afternoon, Hermione gathered her things – and her Gryffindor courage – and, concentrating hard on the coordinates Draco had provided, turned on the spot and vanished. She blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the unexpected sunlight, then gasped as she took in the house before her. Far from the opulent mansion she'd been expecting, the home before her was a quaint little cottage made of light gray stone, with a path of smooth, flat stones leading up to the front door, and little flowerbeds lining the porch. It was an utterly charming little house, and if Draco himself hadn't been sitting on the front stoop, clearing waiting for her arrival, Hermione would've sworn she'd ended up in the wrong place.

"Hello, Granger," he said, rising to greet her as she made her way up the path. "Do come in." Once she reached the front steps, Hermione noticed a small wooden sign hung next to the door that read 'Star Cottage' – she suspected the name was a nod to the Black family tradition, and it was simple enough to suit the little house perfectly.

"Your home is lovely, Malfoy," Hermione said sincerely as she followed her host into a little entryway. Draco hung the light jacket she'd brought on a peg near the front door, then motioned for her to follow him down a short hallway into the house's main living space. The open floorplan allowed her to see the living room, kitchen, and dining area all at once – the former on the left, the latter two on the right – and another hallway at the back led to what she presumed were the bedrooms. The interior was done in shades of cream and blue, reminding her of the seaside, and the furniture was a warm shade of brown that was both relaxing and welcoming. The fireplace was made of the same gray stone as the cottage's exterior – Hermione noted with interest that it was empty, no wood at all in the grate – and in the far corner next to a pair of bookcases sat a piano, its coloring almost identical to that of the furniture. Hermione had barely been in the house for five minutes, and she was already utterly in love with it. She was so immersed in her visual admiration of the cottage that it took her a moment to realize Draco was speaking.

"Erm…sorry?" she asked, feeling her cheeks warm in embarrassment.

"I asked if you'd like lunch," Draco said evenly. For once, he didn't point out that he'd had to repeat himself – Hermione suspected he understood that she was more than a bit shocked by her new surroundings.

"Oh – yes, thank you," she replied, placing her bag on the sofa and moving into the kitchen to help. True to his word, Draco's kitchen was decked out with the latest in Muggle appliances, all in stainless steel, and he seemed right at home as he opened the fridge and took out a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"Plates are in that cupboard there," he said, nodding his head to indicate the proper direction, and Hermione retrieved the appropriate dishes and set them on the dining table, a drop leaf piece that currently held room for four but could expand to accommodate more if needed. The two settled down to eat, but though the sandwiches were delicious, Hermione found she was too distracted, too curious to eat much. Draco must've noticed, because after a few minutes he chuckled and said, "Spit it out, Granger – I can practically hear the cogs working in that brain of yours." Hermione blushed again.

"Well, it's just…this house," she began, waving a hand to indicate the space. "It's…it's the last place I'd ever picture you, quite frankly, and I'm more than a bit curious as to how you ended up here." Draco nodded in understanding and swallowed his mouthful of food.

"I can understand that," he said. "Spoiled rich kid grows up in a huge manor and is suddenly alright with a cottage? It doesn't quite add up, does it?" Hermione shook her head.

"No, it doesn't. Care to explain? You don't have to if you don't want to," she added quickly upon noticing the hint of hesitation in Draco's expression. It was his turn to shake his head.

"No, no, I don't mind," he said. "I wasn't sure how comfortable you'd be hearing about the manor, actually." Hermione's expression softened at this unexpected thoughtfulness.

"Malfoy…if we're going to make these lessons work, I think we have to agree that honesty is the best policy," she said. "We've never really held anything back in all those times you've visited my office, so why should now be any different? We both know perfectly well that we're some of the few people who understand what the other went through, and I think we both recognize that that will sometimes lead to uncomfortable topics, but that we both feel better if we don't avoid them."

"Fair enough," Draco said. "From when I was a child, it was always understood that I would inherit the manor someday, that I would become the next master of the house just as all the previous generations of English Malfoys had done before me. I loved the place when I was younger – though parts of it were dark and a bit creepy, there was always something new to explore, whether it was a secret passage or just a room I hadn't yet discovered. My mother and I spent countless hours in the gardens – they were her pride and joy – and of course I loved learning about my family's history, which was everywhere from the books in the library to the antique vases in the front entryway." Draco paused, his expression suggesting he was temporarily lost in thought, before he continued, "But of course, all that changed after fifth year, when Lucius was arrested and the Death Eaters set up camp in our home. So many things changed overnight, and I no longer felt safe there – _He_ was most displeased with Lucius' failure, and we were under twenty-four-hour supervision as a result. I shan't go into details, but suffice it to say that after everything I saw happen there, I couldn't live there any longer." Hermione shuddered a little – she understood all too well what he meant, she herself having been tortured in the manor by his mad aunt.

"So what did you do?" she asked, determined to steer the conversation away from those uncomfortable waters as quickly as possible.

"I demolished the place," Draco replied. "You know, of course, what happened with my parents after the war. My mother was murdered by the Death Eaters who managed to evade capture, and Lucius, the idiot, landed himself in Azkaban for life when he got involved in that attack near Edinburgh." Hermione knew it well. A group of Death Eaters – incidentally, the same ones who'd killed Narcissa – had gotten bold one night nearly two years after the war had ended and had attacked a village near the Scottish city, throwing Unforgivable Curses and specifically seeking out several Muggle-born residents of the little town. It was this attack that had finally landed the last of the Death Eaters behind bars, and Lucius Malfoy had most definitely been involved, condemning himself to the same fate as the rest of the group – life in Azkaban.

"You know what happened there," Draco repeated, bringing Hermione's attention back to the current conversation. "With Lucius in prison for life, all of the Malfoy assets, including the manor, officially transferred over to me, which meant I could do with it all as I saw fit. I called in a team of experts – curse breakers, museum curators and appraisers, historians – and we spent weeks going through every room in the manor determining what was safe and what wasn't, what belonged in a new home and what didn't. The harmless antiques mostly ended up in Wizarding museums and galleries, the curse breakers did what they needed to do, and once that was done, we took care of the rest with Fiendfyre."

 _"Fiendfyre?"_ Hermione gasped. "Merlin, Draco, you of all people know how dangerous that stuff is!"

"Believe me, I know," Draco replied, and though it was slight, Hermione didn't miss the shudder that raced up his spine. "But I brought in someone who knew how to control it – a lot of the curse breakers do, you know, as it's one of the few ways to destroy some of the more potent artifacts they deal with. The manor's exterior was imbibed with centuries of protective spells, so as long as we were careful to seal all exits, the Fiendfyre would do what we needed it to do – it burned the entire inside of the house and weakened the outside just enough that it collapsed in on itself, but the fire didn't spread beyond the manor's foundation."

"So it's completely gone?" Hermione asked.

"It's completely gone."

"But what about the land? A house that big had to have sat on a sizeable piece of property. And did you not take anything from the manor for yourself?"

"The land is just out there," Draco said, pointing out the window. "This house is built on the same land – there's too much residual magic to easily sell it, and the Malfoy family crypt is still at the far edge of the property." Draco didn't say so, but Hermione suspected Narcissa had been buried there and reached out to give his arm a comforting squeeze.

"I understand."

"As for your second question, no, I didn't take much – as I said before, I saw too much bloodshed in that house to want anything to do with it after the war, and that included everything in it. That piano" – he gestured towards the well-loved instrument by the fireplace – "was my mother's favorite, kept in her private rooms. She taught me to play on it, and I always preferred it to the sleek, shiny thing we had downstairs – the latter was beautiful, of course, but far too impersonal, and the sound was never as sweet. I took a few trinkets from my childhood room, as well as a small handful of books from the library, mostly pertaining to Potions. The rest of the books went to either the Ministry or Hogwarts, after careful evaluation, of course. I saved some of the plants from the gardens, too – those are what you see out front of the cottage now. Other than that, no, I didn't take anything."

"So you really did start over completely," Hermione mused. She frowned a little and added, "How did you get this place wired? Did you actually go through a Muggle architect, then?"

"No – as I said, there's far too much residual magic, so my only option was a Wizarding firm. However, plenty of their top employees are half-bloods or Muggle-borns, and the firm specializes in that sort of integration, so it was no trouble to have this house built. The appliances, electrical system, and all that are specially reinforced just in case, but that's it, really." Draco paused to finish off his pumpkin juice. "That also explains why, although I have a Muggle-fied house, I don't understand Muggle currency – this place was all paid for in wizard gold."

"Perhaps we should start there, then," Hermione said. "That's an easy enough first lesson, and you'll have to-"

 _POP!_

Hermione couldn't help but shriek at the unexpected noise, and her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the new arrival.

"You have a _house-elf?"_ she demanded, rounding on Draco with an accusatory look on her face. Draco threw his hands up in a placating gesture.

"Granger, let me explain before you go into lecture mode?" Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she nodded curtly and motioned for him to do just that.

"Just put them in the usual place, please, Posey," he said to the elf. The elf – Posey, Hermione assumed – nodded, her long ears flapping, and hurried down the back hallway, presumably to take care of the three little shopping bags she carried. Draco sighed and rested his chin in his hand.

"Listen, Granger," he said, "I know you're all about house-elf rights – I remember your campaign from school just as well as anyone. But Posey is a bit of a…special case."

"How so?" Hermione was honestly quite annoyed that Draco had never once mentioned he owned a house-elf – though she'd finally given up S.P.E.W. when she'd recognized how counterproductive her efforts actually were, she was _not_ going to sit back and watch if this elf was being mistreated. House-elves' lack of desire for wages or time off was one thing; how wizards treated them was another entirely.

"Posey is the daughter of Pearl, who was my mother's personal elf," Draco began. "During the Death Eaters' tenure at Malfoy Manor, our elves, of which there were six, were treated with extreme cruelty – all of them had been killed by the time the war had ended. Shortly before she died, my mother revealed Posey – Posey was born the summer after our sixth year at Hogwarts and spent the entire last year of the war hidden in my mother's rooms, learning what she needed to from Pearl while still keeping safe. Even Lucius didn't know of Posey's existence. Before she died, Pearl asked my mother to watch over Posey – my mother had always been fond of Pearl, and so she promised to do all she could, not wanting her elf's young to meet the same horrible fate as the rest. Upon my mother's death, Posey's care fell to me. I offered to let her go to Hogwarts instead, but she refused – she's easily overwhelmed and feels far safer and more secure here."

"And you treat her well?" Hermione pressed. She'd noticed that Draco had said 'please' when he'd addressed Posey, but that didn't really attest to the elf's general state of being.

"She has her own living space upstairs, and I pay her in yarn," Draco replied. At Hermione's puzzled expression, he added, "Posey loves to knit. Every bed in this place has one of her homemade afghans, as does the sofa" – Hermione looked over to the aforementioned piece of furniture, which held a large blanket she'd previously missed, in cheery stripes of spring green and white – "and while she won't accept official 'time off', as it were, I don't have much for her to do, hence the yarn. The shopping she just brought home is an order of Potions ingredients I've been meaning to pick up, plus her latest batch of yarn. She also, thanks to Pearl, knows exactly how to care for my mother's flowers – I'm not exactly the world's greatest Herbologist, so she's a huge help in that department as well."

Hermione mulled over what Draco had said. As much as she hated the whole idea of house-elves, she had to admit that Posey seemed to have a good life, at least, and it was good of both Draco and his mother to have kept the little elf safe.

"It's going to be difficult to explain her presence to any Muggles you might bring over," she cautioned. She paused and added, "Difficult, but not impossible – after all, you can't possibly tell me that every single house-elf the Wizarding world has ever known was employed by a pureblood. There must be some sort of precedent we can look up, see what people have done in similar situations."

"Posey will thank you for it, I'm sure," Draco replied. He glanced down the hall and added, "I really do need to get those ingredients put away – I don't let Posey do it because some of them are a bit dangerous. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," Hermione assured him. "I'm the one intruding on your routine, after all."

"It's hardly intruding when you were invited." The two young adults headed down the cottage's back hallway, which led to four doors and a small staircase.

"Loo, guest room, my room, office," Draco said, pointing them out from right to left. He pushed open the door to the office – it was actually more of a brewing space than anything else, with plentiful counter space, meticulously organized shelves filled with ingredients, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the right-hand wall. There was a selection of different cauldrons in various metals and sizes, and a cabinet below the counter held the largest collection of potions-related tools and implements Hermione had ever seen outside of Hogwarts. She supposed Draco needed all of these things, working as he was towards his Potions mastery, but she still found the room impressive. On the floor next to the counter sat two bags, and Draco quickly busied himself with removing the jars within and storing them properly according to whatever organizational system he preferred.

"There we go," he said once the last container was in place. He turned back to face Hermione, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Would you like to meet Posey, Granger?"

* * *

 **A/N: I want Draco's little house. I can visualize it perfectly in my head & it's just wonderful. Next chapter, Draco has his first lesson, & we meet Posey - I think she's pretty wonderful too, & I hope you'll agree.**

 **Just a heads up: the next update will be in 2 weeks as opposed to the usual 1 - it's school vacation next week & I'm going away (Paris, here I come!), leaving the laptop at home. Hope you can enjoy what I've written so far in the meantime!**

 **Thank you for all your kind words re: the last chapter, as well as to anyone who's followed or favorited this story! My next question: are there any other characters you'd like to see make an appearance? I already have a chapter involving Hermione's parents, but would you like to see a trio scene (i.e. should Hermione tell Ron about her project)? Draco with his fellow Slytherins? Someone else I've not thought of? I'd love to hear what you think.**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Thanks for all your support, please R &R, & I hope you enjoy! :)**


	6. In for a Penny

Draco would have given all the gold in the Malfoy vault for a repeat of the priceless look that graced Hermione's features just then. It wasn't often that one got to see Hermione Granger looking so utterly flabbergasted.

"M-meet Posey?" she repeated, her tone just as confused as her expression. "You want me to meet her?"

"Technically, I asked if _you_ would like to meet her," Draco pointed out. "But yes, I do think you should. After all, it's considered quite rude for a host not to introduce his guests to the members of his household, is it not? You already know Posey is here, and unless I'm very much mistaken, you'll be returning to my home at least once or twice over the course of my lessons – therefore, you should meet her."

"I…well, alright, then," Hermione said. She looked around the office. "Where did she go?"

"She'll be upstairs sorting through her new yarn," Draco replied as if it were the most natural response in the world, "but I don't think she'll mind the interruption." He beckoned Hermione to follow him from the room, which he shut carefully before trotting up the little staircase.

The upstairs was one large open room, the gently slanted ceilings lending a cozy air to the space. Closest to the stairs was a mishmash of personal items – boxes, trunks, Quidditch gear, and the like – suggesting that Draco mainly used this upper floor for storage, but in the far corner was a little alcove, clearly inhabited. Hermione thought it the perfect size for a reading nook, and apparently, it was also the perfect size for a house-elf. The space held a little bed, sized perhaps for a human toddler, and an equally small bookcase, on which sat several neatly organized wicker baskets of knitting materials, including patterns, needles, and yarn in every color of the rainbow. A wooden rocking chair, also child-sized, sat in the corner behind the bookcase, and draped across it was what looked like another half-finished blanket. Posey herself sat on the bed, one of the baskets on her lap as she carefully rearranged its contents to accommodate her latest acquisitions. The elf looked up when she heard their footsteps and quickly set her things aside.

"Master Draco!" she said, her squeaky little soprano confirming without a doubt that she was female. "Is Master Draco needing something from Posey?"

"Only a moment of your time, Posey," Draco replied easily. "I wanted you to meet someone, actually." He stepped aside to allow Hermione to come forward.

"Posey, I'd like to introduce Hermione Granger. Granger, Posey."

"It's very nice to meet you, Posey," Hermione said politely. She was pleasantly surprised to see that instead of a castoff towel or pillowcase, Posey wore a little tunic and matching slipper-socks, both in a bright shade of pink. She couldn't tell for sure, but she suspected Posey had knit them herself, and Hermione was pleased that Draco had both found and allowed his elf a way around the no-clothes rule.

"Posey is being very pleased to meet you too, Miss Her…Miss Her…" Posey paused, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment, unable to remember the new arrival's name. Hermione merely smiled and introduced herself once more.

"Miss Her-my-oh-knee." Posey sounded it out carefully and looked to Hermione for confirmation, and when Hermione nodded, Posey broke into a wide smile, clearly pleased with herself for mastering the tricky name.

"You is friend to Master Draco?" Posey asked then. "Like Miss Daphne, or Mister Adrian?"

"Erm…" Hermione looked to Draco, unsure of just how he'd like her to describe their relationship.

"Hermione and I are old schoolmates, and I'm helping her with a special project," Draco said.

"A special project?" Posey repeated, looking interested. She immediately flinched, as if she thought she shouldn't have spoken.

"Posey is sorry," she said. "Posey didn't-"

"Posey, it's alright," Hermione said quickly. "You don't have to apologize for being curious." She looked to Draco again, realizing too late that perhaps he didn't agree with this view, but he just nodded, the semblance of a smile playing about his lips. Encouraged by his response, Hermione continued, "I'm hoping to redesign one of the classes at Hogwarts. What they teach in Muggle Studies isn't useful at all, and there also isn't anything to help Muggle-born students understand Wizarding culture. I want to help students so that when they leave Hogwarts, they can move between the Muggle and Wizarding worlds with ease." Posey's features assumed a thoughtful expression as she considered Hermione's explanation.

"And Master Draco is helping Miss Hermione?"

"Yes. He's kindly volunteered to test my Muggle lessons for me, to see if they're helpful." To Hermione's astonishment, Posey beamed and bounded forward, throwing her arms around Draco's waist in a tight hug.

"Posey, what's this about?" Draco asked. He didn't look quite as shocked as Hermione, but he did look rather embarrassed. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if hugs from Posey were a regular occurrence – the thought was actually quite adorable. Posey stepped back a little and looked up at Draco.

"Posey is proud of Master Draco," she said seriously. "Posey is being very small when bad things is happening, but Posey understands how hard Master Draco is working to move past that. Posey knows Master Draco will work hard and be a good Muggle."

Hermione couldn't help it. She burst into giggles, her laughter only increasing as the flush on Draco's cheeks deepened.

 _"Granger,"_ he groaned. "Do you really have to?"

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she replied, bringing a hand up to hide her smile. "Her explanation was really rather sweet…but you have to admit that last bit was quite funny." Draco harrumphed, but even he had to chuckle a little at the elf's proclamation. Even just a few short years ago, the very idea of a Malfoy ever making a good Muggle would've been absolutely ludicrous. But Posey didn't lie, especially not to him, and that she had such faith in his potential did make him feel good.

"Is Posey saying something wrong?" Posey asked, her bright eyes widening in obvious concern.

"No, no, Posey, of course not," Draco said soothingly. He reached over and patted her on the head. "Why don't you finish organizing your yarn, and we'll talk later."

"Posey must also look over the garden," she said, as if she were reminding him. The elf turned to Hermione. "Master Draco is hopeless with the flowers," she said matter-of-factly, shaking her head as if to say, _'What_ am I going to do with this boy?' Hermione giggled again.

"I'm not hopeless, Posey!" Draco protested. When Posey gave him a pointed look, he added, "Alright, fine, so I'm not the best…but I'm not _terrible."_ Hermione knew he wasn't lying – as much as she'd hated to admit it at the time, Draco had earned excellent marks all throughout their schooling career, maintaining a consistently high rank until his grades had dropped off during their sixth year. Perhaps Herbology hadn't been his strongest or his favorite subject, but he had to have had at least semi-decent marks in the class to earn that high rank.

"Shall we leave Posey to it, then?" Hermione asked diplomatically. "Perhaps we can get started with your lessons."

"Alright, then." Draco didn't say anything further, but he was inwardly relieved that Hermione had ended the conversation rather than continue to giggle at his expense.

"You will call Posey if you is needing anything, Master Draco? Miss Hermione?"

"Of course, Posey."

"Lovely to meet you, Posey," Hermione said again. "I'm sure I'll see you again soon." Posey beamed again.

"Posey hopes to see Miss Hermione again very soon!" Draco chuckled and shook his head a little at the elf's obvious enthusiasm, then gently nudged Hermione towards the stairs. The two returned to the main living area, where they seated themselves around the table once again.

"Posey is quite sweet," Hermione commented.

"That she is," Draco agreed. "She can be a bit overenthusiastic at times, but she's a good little elf. And she obviously likes you a lot – she's a little ball of energy, but she's usually far more reserved around people she doesn't know well. It's part of why she wouldn't be happy at Hogwarts." Deciding it was time to turn the conversation back to the purpose of Hermione's visit, he added, "Now, I believe you mentioned something about currency?"

"I did," Hermione agreed. "It's a crucial lesson if you're to get anywhere in the Muggle world – we certainly don't want you fumbling with the notes, you'll draw too much attention, and of course you can't purchase Muggle things with Wizarding coins. Therefore, it's the logical starting point. As an added bonus, we don't have to go anywhere special for this lesson – I have enough Muggle currency with me that I can give you the basics right now." She grabbed her bag from the sofa and removed her wallet, a sleek leather trifold she'd treated herself to upon her graduation from university.

"What's that?" Draco asked, curiously examining the accessory.

"It's a wallet," Hermione replied. "Muggles use them to carry currency and other small things like cards and identification." She extracted several colorful slips of paper and a small handful of coins from the wallet.

"These are some examples of Muggle money," she said. "Unlike wizards, Muggles use a mix of notes and coins – the obvious advantage, of course, is that notes are far lighter and therefore easier to carry. I've never quite understood how wizards can stand to carry around bulky coin purses all day – I always keep as little Wizarding currency on me as I can, just because it takes up so much space. Anyway, I have a few notes here, and some coins." She rifled through the loose change and held up a coin.

"The basic unit of currency for British Muggles is the pound – British pound sterling, if we're being technical," Hermione said. "This coin is worth one pound, or you might also hear it called a quid. With the exception of this coin and the two-pound coin, all coins are worth fractions of a pound."

"And what are the denominations?" Draco asked. Hermione inwardly grinned. Draco might not have encountered Muggle money before, but he'd certainly handled plenty of Wizarding gold in his life – the currency lesson was definitely a good starting point.

"Well, just like Knuts and Sickles are each worth portions of a Galleon, Muggle currency has pounds and pence – one hundred pence equals one pound." Hermione showed him a penny, as well as a handful of other small coins, pointing out the numbers on each. "The huge advantage Muggle currency has over Wizarding gold is the fractions used – our Muggle currency is done in multiples of five and ten. Five pence, ten pence, fifty pence, five pounds, ten pounds, fifty pounds. It's loads easier to count in your head – whoever thought multiples of seventeen and twenty-nine were a good idea needs their head examined! Even the conversions from Muggle to Wizarding currency are simpler than that – one Galleon equals five pounds."

"I think that's why prices in the Wizarding world are so exact," Draco said with a chuckle. "Two Galleons, six Sickles, five Knuts…although if you haven't the exact change, then the shopkeeper still has to figure out the maths."

"Muggle pricing is exact as well," Hermione countered. "Five pounds fifty, for example…but with this system, there's no need to specify the exact number of each coin needed, because there are a number of different ways to reach the necessary amount, all of which are easily calculated in your head." She paused and looked at Draco. "Are you with me so far?"

"Considering the only difference is the denominations, yes," Draco replied. He picked up a note and examined it. "Who are these people?"

"That's Queen Elizabeth," Hermione said, pointing to the appropriate picture. "She's been our monarch since 1952 – this year marks her Golden Jubilee, fifty years on the throne. Her image also appears on the coins. The other people on the notes are famous names from British history." She opened her wallet and extracted a slim piece of plastic.

"The currency itself might have similar properties, but the Muggles have one thing wizards don't – bank cards," she said as she held up her own card. Draco could see that the card had Hermione's name stamped across it, as well as a series of numbers. "Carrying large amounts of cash isn't a good idea – if people happen to notice, it pegs you as a target for pickpockets, among other things – so for more expensive purchases, Muggles tend to use these. It's linked to your bank account – your 'vault', if you will – and the data programmed into the card tells the machine which account to take the payment from. You can elect to deduct the full charges immediately, or, for very expensive items, you might use credit and pay the bill in installments."

"This little – bank card, you said? – does all that?" Draco asked.

"Mhmm. Rather ingenious little invention, isn't it?"

"And what are those? Do most Muggles have more than one bank card?" Draco reopened Hermione's wallet and pointed to a number of other cards she had stored there.

"No, no – there are cards for a number of different things. One is my bookstore membership – I can earn things like discounts and other special privileges when I use it. Some people have credit cards specific to certain stores, although I personally don't. This one is an old travel card from a Tube ride I took in London a few weeks ago, I have a few business cards from various places…oh, and I have my driver's license." She pulled it out of its holding place to show Draco. "It says that I've passed the tests required to legally operate a car – and, of course, it's a widely accepted form of identification as well."

"I can see now why the wallet is useful," Draco said. "Muggles have a lot to carry around with them."

"I can promise you that almost every Muggle we encounter will own one," Hermione said. "At least now you understand what's in them. Now…let's put your new knowledge to the test, shall we? If you were to purchase something for fifteen pounds forty-five, what would you give me?" Draco carefully studied the selection of notes and coins – Hermione was missing a few, so he had to think for a moment, but he finally slid a twenty-pound note and a few coins across the table. Hermione nodded approvingly.

"Very good! You'd expect some change, of course, but that's the best option. Now, what about three pounds twenty?"

They continued in this vein for several minutes, Hermione naming amounts while Draco shifted the money around accordingly and even told her how much change he should get. After yet another success, Hermione nodded and smiled widely.

"Wonderful! I think you've got the hang of it now, yeah?" She scooped up the money they'd been using and divided it into two piles, sliding one to Draco while putting the rest back into her wallet. "Here – you can hold onto this for now so you can keep practicing and get more comfortable with the currency. After all, it'd be foolish of me to leave you with nothing and risk you forgetting what we've covered…but I'd say our first lesson was a success, wouldn't you?"

"Could anything designed by Hermione Granger ever be anything but?" Draco joked as he accepted his share of the Muggle money. Hermione rolled her eyes and lightly punched his arm.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "Even I'm not perfect."

"Regardless, it was a very good first lesson – I have high expectations for the next one."

"Goodness!" Hermione yelped after a glance at the clock. "I've been here for hours! Merlin, Draco, why didn't you tell me I was imposing?"

"Because you weren't," Draco replied. "I invited you here, remember?"

"Still…I'd hate to overstay my welcome," Hermione said. "I'm sure you have other things you need to do, and I still have plenty to work on as well."

"Very well. But do keep me posted, yeah?"

"Of course." Hermione smiled warmly. "Thank you for having me, Draco. I had a lovely time." Draco fetched her coat and walked her to the end of the path.

"See you, Granger."

"Later, Malfoy." With one last glance at Star Cottage, Hermione turned on the spot and vanished.

* * *

 **A/N: We met Posey! Isn't she the best? I already love her. And Draco had his first lesson, yay! Many more to come.**

 **Thanks again for your patience with the extra week between updates - Paris was wonderful, & I think that little break was exactly what I needed. Definitely ready to write more later today!**

 **Thank you as well for all the reviews, as well as follows/faves - you guys are the best.**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	7. Dinner with the Grangers

Hermione was beyond thrilled that her first lesson with Draco had gone so well. Although it had been a fairly basic lesson, the success gave her confidence that future sessions would also prove effective. As soon as she arrived back at her flat, she documented everything they'd done that afternoon, taking care to note as many details as possible to make things easier further down the line. Once that was done, however, Hermione frowned a little as she thought about how much further they still had to go. There were so many topics to cover! Some would be easy – transportation, for instance, or communication – but others would be far more complicated. Having spent most of her formative years in the Wizarding world herself, Hermione only had a basic understanding of things like science, history, or government, as students didn't really learn about those subjects in greater detail until secondary school. Her knowledge of popular culture was also woefully inadequate compared to her Muggle peers – her friends from university were always teasing her about not recognizing this band or that actor, but what was she to do? They only got magical radio stations at Hogwarts, and of course, they hadn't had access to cinemas or the telly. Hermione hadn't really thought about it this way before, but this project was going to be just as much of a learning experience for her as it was for Draco. Deciding it was better to focus on one thing at a time rather than dwell on the immense magnitude of the whole project, Hermione quickly scribbled some ideas for Draco's next lesson before calling it quits for the night and setting about finding some supper.

Hermione didn't have too much time to spare for the project over the next few days. For one, she was too hung up on what to teach Draco next, and for another, she was busy preparing for dinner with her parents. Just as she had her weekly dinners with Harry and Ginny, Hermione spent the first Friday of every month with her parents. They exchanged the occasional telephone call, of course, but these dinners were usually the only time Hermione could guarantee several uninterrupted hours of her parents' time, and so she always thought carefully about which news to save for those evenings.

It had taken the elder Grangers quite some time to come to terms with what their daughter had done to them to keep them safe during the Second Wizarding War. Once she'd reversed the memory alteration spell, Hermione had sat her parents down and explained everything that had happened to lead her to make that decision. She left nothing out – as horrified as she knew her parents would be, she knew it wouldn't do her any good to renege on the details, and so she'd explained at length just how bad the situation had gotten after Voldemort's return, and what they'd done to combat it. Perhaps it might've been better for her parents' peace of mind to let them remain ignorant, but Hermione knew they'd never understand her actions if she did, and so she talked. Once her story was done, her parents knew that she'd subsisted on little more than wild mushrooms for nearly a year, that she'd been captured and interrogated, and that she'd fought for her life in the biggest battle in recent Wizarding history, all while only eighteen years old. They knew that their daughter was considered a celebrity, a decorated war heroine, and they also knew that were Hermione given the chance to do it all again, her experiences would largely remain the same, because her fierce loyalty to Harry was second to none. She would have always stuck with her best friend, and she would have always fought for what she believed in – she might have the brains to rival the best of the Ravenclaws, but Hermione Granger truly was a Gryffindor at heart.

That's not to say that the Grangers accepted everything their daughter told them. They'd never had a problem with Hermione's status as a witch, happily reading long letters and taking part in even longer discussions even if they didn't understand the finer workings of the classes or the fantastical aspects of magical life, but Hermione's confession had opened their eyes to a much darker side of the magical world. They were properly horrified that their daughter had had to fight for her life at such a young age, had been singled out and targeted due to something she couldn't control, and was viewed as a second-class citizen in spite of her brilliance and formidable magical talent. They nearly refused to let Hermione return to Hogwarts after the war – the resulting argument had come very close to a full-blown shouting match – and had only agreed once Hermione pointed out the impossibility of obtaining her credentials through a Muggle school. They'd always wanted nothing but success for their only child, and as Hermione had already come so far, they couldn't deny her the opportunity to complete her education. Still, the situation made for quite a few tense conversations, and Hermione was always mindful of her parents' mistrust when bringing up magical topics after that. It was a difficult balance, and their relationship was still strained at times, but Hermione knew it was far better than many other possible outcomes, and so she did the best she could with what she had.

On the first Friday in October, Hermione Apparated to a secluded spot near her childhood home, checking carefully to make sure her sudden appearance had gone unnoticed before trotting up the front steps and rapping her knuckles against the door. She twisted the knob and walked inside – her parents were expecting her, and so the knock was a formality more than anything else.

"Mum? Dad?"

"Is that Hermione I hear?" her father's booming voice called back. Hermione grinned as she slipped off her shoes and coat and hurried into the sitting room, where her father was watching the evening news.

"Come say hello to dear old dad, eh?" Hermione happily obliged, wrapping her arms around her father's waist and enjoying the comfort of the familiar embrace. She had a good relationship with her mother, but she'd always been a bit of a daddy's girl.

"It's good to see you," Hermione said as she pulled away. Her father smiled, his blue-gray eyes crinkling behind his glasses.

"Same to you, sweetheart," he replied. He glanced at the television and picked up the remote, hitting the power button when he'd decided the current news report was of little interest.

"They've already done the sports news for the evening," he said as he put the remote back on the coffee table. "Chelsea's playing Liverpool on Sunday – should be exciting."

Hermione chuckled and shook her head at her father's utterly predictable move – it was a well-known fact that John Granger only watched the news to learn about the upcoming football matches. He was a huge fan of the sport, having played the game as a child and on into his teenage years, and while he had a team or two that he favored above the rest, he'd watch any match as long as it promised to be a good one. Hermione wasn't all that great a player herself – her father had tried and failed many times to better her skills when she was little – but she'd always liked watching the professional matches with him, and she knew enough about the teams to agree with her father's prediction about the Chelsea-Liverpool meeting.

"I can always count on you for the football news," Hermione teased, her father reaching over to tweak her nose in response to the quip. "Where's Mum?"

"I'm in the kitchen, love, if your father would like to stop keeping you all to himself," Margaret Granger replied, her lips twitching upwards in a smirk at the sheepish look on her husband's face. Hermione laughed again and moved to greet her mother, the two women exchanging kisses on the cheek – Margaret wasn't really one for overt displays of physical affection.

"It's been quite the week at the office, so I ordered Chinese – wasn't much in the mood to cook, I'm afraid," Hermione's mother explained as she led the way into the kitchen. Three plates sat on the counter, awaiting the contents of the various takeaway cartons neatly lined up beside them.

"That's perfectly alright," Hermione reassured her. "I can't expect you to do anything fancy solely for my benefit."

"That, and you'll never say no to boneless spareribs," her father added with a wink.

"No, I won't," Hermione admitted ruefully. "But don't think we don't know you're just as bad with the lo mein…"

"Cheeky as always, aren't you?" Her father chuckled. "Well, let's not waste any more time – ladies first!"

The Grangers took turns serving themselves before heading into the dining room to eat. As usual, the food was delicious – they'd been frequenting the same shop since Hermione was a small child, and they all agreed that the family-owned establishment was the best of its kind.

"You said it was an interesting week at the office?" Hermione asked once she'd swallowed her bite of pork.

"Goodness!" her mother groaned. "Was it ever! You were a sweet child, Hermione, but sometimes I'm glad you're old enough to care for yourself…" She then went on to detail the exceptional number of difficult cases they'd had that week, including a squirming child who'd absolutely refused to cooperate, and one of the worst root canals they'd seen since returning to England.

"I don't know how you do it sometimes, Mum," Hermione said once her mother had finished describing an encounter with a particularly grumpy elderly patient.

"Honestly Hermione, sometimes _I_ don't know how I do it," Margaret replied. "Enough about dentistry, though – what have you been doing lately?"

Hermione paused to cut another piece of pork as she considered her mother's question. Her project took up the largest portion of her time by far, but should she risk mentioning it? She decided it couldn't hurt – her parents seemed to be in a good mood despite their long week, and the project connected heavily with the Muggle world, after all. Perhaps they might even be able to help.

"Well, I've begun working more extensively on a pet project of mine," she began, trying to recall what, if anything, she'd already told her parents about her work.

"Oh?" her father asked, looking interested. "And what's that?"

"Well, as you both know, I studied English and education at university," Hermione said. "The education coursework taught me how to teach, and I'm using that knowledge to hopefully reconfigure part of the curriculum at Hogwarts. You see, there is next to no support for Muggle-borns – students like me, with non-magic parents – in terms of learning Wizarding culture, and those who grew up in Wizarding homes are equally as baffled by Muggle customs. There is a Muggle Studies course in place, but the material taught isn't useful at all. I'm hoping to create a new course that will immerse students in the practices of _both_ cultures, leaving them equally capable and comfortable in either world once they leave school."

"That sounds like an admirable goal, Hermione," her mother praised. "How exactly do you plan to go about it?"

"Well, there's still quite a bit of work to be done, of course," Hermione replied. "Until very recently, this was all just in the development stages – taking what I'd learned at university and applying it to what I know of Wizarding education, creating rough outlines of lesson plans, that sort of thing. I'll need more than just data charts and teaching materials, though, to convince the Board of Directors and the Wizengamot – our governing body, if you will – that this project is a good idea, and a few weeks ago, I had someone who knows a bit about the project volunteered to be a test subject."

"A test subject?" her mother repeated. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly that," Hermione said. "I'm going to test my potential lessons on him – any lessons that go well, I'll know I can keep for my final proposal. You see, my test subject is the perfect candidate – he grew up in a strictly Wizarding household with almost no exposure to the Muggle world, so he's about as in the dark as one can get. If I can get him to a place where he can move comfortably in the Muggle world, it will say a lot for my project's potential."

"It sounds like you have a solid, well-thought-out plan," her father said approvingly.

"Are wizards really that lacking when it comes to understanding our world?" her mother asked.

"You remember Mr. Weasley, Mum – the man works with Muggle artifacts for a living and still doesn't understand basic things like toasters or electricity. And unless they grew up embracing both cultures, or are Muggle-born, most witches and wizards are the same – before Harry explained it to him, Ron had never even heard of a telephone, never mind knew how to use one, and from what I understand, his first attempt to do so was a disaster. Draco Malfoy – he's my test subject – is the same way. It's not going to be easy – he basically needs to start from the very beginning – but if we're successful, I should be able to reach almost any Hogwarts student with similar results."

"Draco Malfoy…unusual name," her father remarked. "Why do I feel like I've heard it before?"

"You have, Dad. Malfoy went to school with Harry, Ron, and I, and he was just as much in the thick of things as we were during the war…"

"…but on the other side, I remember," her mother said with a frown. "Hermione, your stories don't exactly paint that name in a favorable light – are you sure you want to work so closely with someone who treated you so horribly?"

"He's not the same person he used to be," Hermione replied quietly. "Just like I'm not either." She said nothing further, but her sudden pensiveness and the sad look in her eyes said it all. The Grangers would never be able to understand fully the horrors their daughter had experienced and how she'd changed as a result, but they recognized that she'd grown up well before her time and had put a number of things behind her, things that might've once been important but had been deemed inconsequential in the aftermath of war.

"Perhaps not," her mother acquiesced, reaching over and squeezing Hermione's hand gently. "We just want you to be careful, sweetheart – we remember how overwhelmed you were at the sheer number of things you had to learn when you first started at Hogwarts, and even though he's agreed to help you out, there's no telling how Mr. Malfoy might react if he starts to feel the same. People do all sorts of things when they're uncomfortable – one of your biggest strengths is your compassion, Hermione, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"I understand, Mum," Hermione said, offering her parents a small smile. "Believe me when I say we all saw that sort of thing come out during the war – Harry, Ron, and I were at each other's throats constantly, and that wasn't the worst of it by far. But I promise I'll be careful. I'm carefully considering each of Malfoy's lessons, and I won't actually take him into the Muggle world until he has a basic understanding and comfort level of what he's getting into."

"We have every confidence in you, Hermione," her father said. "This won't be easy, but if anyone can do it, it's you. Please don't hesitate to let us know if there's anything we can do to help."

"Thank you," Hermione said, her smile brightening just a little at their acceptance and approval of her dream. Deciding not to push her luck, she gently steered the conversation back to more Muggle-oriented topics, but she couldn't help the feeling of lightness in her chest. She'd just had an extensive conversation about the Wizarding world with her parents, and not only had nothing gone wrong, but they'd been interested and wanting to know more. Things were going to be ok.

* * *

 **A/N: So now Hermione's parents are in the picture - I hope you enjoyed her interactions with them/found their post-war relationship to be realistic.**

 **Fun fact #1: Chelsea & Liverpool really did play on the first Sunday of October 2002 - & given that they were both well ranked within the Premier League at the time, I'm guessing it was probably a pretty good game. It's amazing what you can find on the internet...**

 **Fun fact #2: Happy Read Across America Day! For those who don't know, it's a celebration of Dr. Seuss's birthday - big thanks to him for making learning to read fun! Make sure to read your favorite Seuss book to celebrate - I already did!**

 **Thank you for all the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading! You guys are the best.**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	8. An Afternoon Adventure

Early Monday afternoon found Draco in Hermione's office once again.

"Hello, Granger."

"Hey," Hermione replied, looking up from her notes. "Good weekend?"

"No better or worse than usual," Draco said with a shrug. "Had some studying to do, but that's not uncommon."

"I'm working on your next lesson," Hermione said. "I have a few ideas, I just want to make sure my thoughts are organized first."

"Granger, you'd have your thoughts organized even if you were making it up as you went along," Draco said, chuckling slightly. "And I wanted to talk to you about that, actually."

"Talk to me about what?"

"My next lesson. Aren't I going to need Muggle clothes at some point?" Hermione stared at him for a long moment, her head tilted to the side in contemplation.

"Well, yes…if we're out doing things in the Muggle world, you would need to dress like a Muggle," she said slowly.

"Wouldn't that be a good lesson to get out of the way, then?"

"Draco…are you sure you know what you're asking?" Hermione asked. "We've only just begun – I've taught you literally nothing aside from currency – and you're asking for something that involves spending close to an entire day in the presence of Muggles? Don't you think that might be a bit…overwhelming?" She thought of all the things one might encounter on a shopping trip that Muggles would find ordinary but wizards wouldn't understand – the list was _huge,_ and she was sure there were many things she hadn't even considered. It was Draco's turn to think.

"When you first joined the magical world, how much of an introduction did you get?" he asked after a moment.

"Next to none, aside from Professor McGonagall's explanation that such a world existed," Hermione replied, frowning slightly. "I didn't even get the currency lesson until we'd arrived at Gringotts, by which time we'd already encountered…well, all of Diagon Alley." She paused for a moment, knowing Draco would understand that rather vague explanation – even if he didn't quite get how drastic an experience that first trip through the brick wall could be, he knew enough to know that there was a _lot_ in Diagon Alley with no comparison in the Muggle world.

"But you know that lack of education is precisely why I'm taking on this project in the first place," Hermione continued. "I want people to feel comfortable in both worlds – and there's so much you haven't learned yet…"

"I'm not saying you're wrong," Draco cut in smoothly, "because you're not – while our first lesson went well, I recognize that a basic understanding of currency is nowhere near enough to get by. But at the same time, Granger, there's only so much you can learn from books – even you know and understand that; our practical lessons at school were just as important as lectures on theory."

"Sometimes even more so," Hermione grudgingly admitted, her fifth year and Dumbledore's Army immediately coming to mind.

"Yes, we all know that your little defense group learned more that year than the rest of the school combined," Draco said, confirming that he knew exactly what Hermione was thinking. "And that was largely hands-on work, was it not? I highly doubt you lot sat around reading textbooks when we did more than enough of that in that Umbridge woman's class."

"No, we didn't," Hermione admitted once more. "Harry always gave a brief explanation of what we were doing, but it was mostly demonstrations and then practicing the spells."

"And I'm sure you didn't learn everything you know of the Muggle world from books, either – you probably learned most of it from experiencing it."

"I see your point, Malfoy," Hermione said with a sigh. "I did learn quite a bit of my everyday knowledge – both Muggle and magical – from experience, so I can't really argue with you on that front. And the best way to learn about Muggle British culture will be to actually go to the museums, the historic sites, and all that…I just think it might be a bit much all at once if we were to go clothes shopping so soon."

"These experiences are going to be a bit uncomfortable no matter what we do, or when we do it," Draco said, shrugging again. "Just as I'm sure each new experience in the Wizarding world was a lot for you to take in as well."

"So you're saying it doesn't matter to you when we go out," Hermione said, wanting to make sure she understood him right.

"That's what I said. Besides, aren't you Gryffindors known for rushing headlong into things?"

"Just as much as you Slytherins are known for calculating every move before you make it," Hermione replied, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "If I didn't know any better, Malfoy, I'd say you were falling quite squarely into the Gryffindor camp right now."

"Granger, I'm appalled – insinuating that I'm a Gryffindor! My ancestors are rolling in their graves."

"And they aren't over the fact that you're willingly learning to pass as a Muggle?" Hermione's eyes were positively sparkling with mirth, and she had to stop herself from laughing outright when Draco glared at her.

"You fight dirty, Granger," he said, though there was no malice in his tone. "Don't think I'll take that all the time, now."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Malfoy," Hermione replied, her amusement still evident. She paused for a moment, her expression morphing into a more thoughtful one. "Is there a town near your home?"

"I believe there's a small village roughly twenty minutes away on foot – why do you ask?"

"Well, I know of a few shopping districts not too far from your home we could go to, but perhaps it might be a good idea to visit the village first," Hermione explained. "Not for clothes, but for a first experience – the village will be smaller than a bustling shopping center, which means less people and fewer new things to experience. We might be able to get something to eat, have you interact with a few people and get comfortable with the idea before we throw you into the bigger scenarios."

"I suppose that sounds like a workable alternative," Draco said slowly.

"Trust me, Malfoy – shopping for clothes is even more of an ordeal in the Muggle world than the Wizarding one, because unless you only shop at the really expensive, high-end boutiques, you're not going to get clothes custom-fitted just for you – there are so many styles and colors that you just have to try on what you like and see how it looks. Clothing sizes also aren't necessarily universal from store to store – it's going to be an all-day affair."

"I take it you're not a fan?" Draco said with a slight smirk. Hermione shook her head.

"Not in the slightest," she said. "Of course, I do like having clothes that fit and look nice, and I'll go out when I have need of something, but I'm not about to shop for them on a whim."

"You reserve that for the books." Draco waved a hand at the bookcase behind Hermione's desk, which was, of course, packed to capacity and then some. Hermione chuckled.

"I'll give you that," she conceded. "Now, you were so eager to get this shopping done, so when would you like to go to the village?" Draco thought about it.

"The only day this week that I can't do is Thursday," he said. "I've an exam in one of my classes that day."

"Well, then, we should wait until Friday," Hermione said firmly. "You'll need your study time before then. Then if all goes well, we can wait a few days and do the shopping sometime next week – it won't be quite as crowded during the week." She paused. "And if we wait until Friday, that'll give me a few days to find you something to wear – you can't go out in the Muggle world dressed like that." A fair percentage of witches and wizards, especially those of the younger generations, liked to wear a combination of Muggle and Wizarding clothing, but she'd only ever seen Draco in robes – most likely because he had no clue where to even find Muggle clothing, never mind how to shop for it.

"Friday it is, then," Draco said. "Shall we say noon? I have a prior engagement later that evening."

"Friday at noon – I'll see you then."

* * *

Hermione's doubts about Draco's decision to jump headfirst into things hadn't subsided by Friday, but he'd made it very clear – both through their conversation on Monday and via owl several times thereafter – that he wasn't about to change his mind. Knowing how stubborn the blond could be, Hermione pushed her thoughts of trying to persuade him to postpone the trip to the back of her mind and headed for Star Cottage. Just as before, Draco was waiting for her on his front steps, and Posey, who was tending the front flowerbeds, was delighted to see her new friend again. The little elf carefully removed her gardening gloves before throwing her arms around Hermione's waist in an enthusiastic hug, which Hermione returned with a smile. Draco chuckled and shook his head at Posey's obvious attachment to Hermione before inviting his guest inside.

"I brought you a change of clothes," Hermione said, handing him a shopping bag. "We might have to alter them to fit, but they'll be alright for today."

"I'll just be a minute, then," Draco said as he accepted the bag.

As it turned out, though, Draco needed much longer than 'a minute' to figure out the clothes Hermione had brought him. When he'd opened the bag, he'd found a pair of trousers made of some sort of thick, coarse material, and a slightly worn but very soft blue jumper. The jumper was easy enough – over the head, arms through the sleeves – but the trousers were another story. Aside from sleep pants, Draco had never worn trousers before, and so the stiff blue garment was utterly foreign to him. First, he had to figure out which way was front – why did the things have so many pockets, and _why_ did Muggles need pockets on their _backsides_ of all places? – and then he spent a good five minutes wrestling with the fastenings and wondering if all Muggle clothing was this complicated. Zippers _and_ buttons? Wouldn't one or the other have sufficed? When he'd finally wrangled himself into the clothes, Draco stepped back and took a look at himself in the mirror, turning away just moments later with a shrug – there was no point in critiquing his appearance when he hardly had any idea what the outfit was supposed to look like in the first place. After carefully folding his robes and leaving them on the end of his bed, Draco grabbed the small handful of Muggle money Hermione had given him from his nightstand drawer and returned to the living room. Hermione, who had perched on the sofa to wait, looked up when she heard his approach.

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully as she surveyed his appearance. "Not a bad fit – although I'd like to make a few adjustments, if that's alright?"

"Go on, then," Draco replied, standing still as Hermione drew her wand and began muttering to herself. She then carefully began to alter the clothes better to fit his frame.

"Where'd these come from, anyway?" Draco asked as Hermione worked.

"Harry," she replied as if it were the most natural response in the world. "He had a whole drawer full of clothes at my place at one point while he was renovating his own home, and these just got left behind – so no, they're not new, and they're certainly not designer material, but they'll do for now. The fit's not terrible, either – Harry's a bit broader than you, and you're a bit taller, but we don't need to change too much." Indeed, she was already finished, and she gave Draco a satisfied nod as she stepped back to check her handiwork. Muggle clothes rather suited him.

"Ready to go?" she asked. Draco agreed, and the two gathered their things and headed out. It was unusually warm and sunny, and so they'd decided to walk to the village – once they'd finished their outing, they could Apparate back to Star Cottage if they could find a secluded enough spot. They said goodbye to Posey and headed off down the main road.

Draco's estimate of a twenty-minute walk was accurate, and Hermione used the time to give him a quick rundown on Muggle transportation. Draco was already familiar with at least the concept of trains, though of course the Hogwarts Express was rather old-fashioned compared to its Muggle counterparts, but he'd only ever seen photos of cars and buses (his parents had _never_ taken the Knight Bus – it was probably the only time Hermione had ever found herself agreeing with the elder Malfoys), and he'd never even heard of a plane. He couldn't even fathom Hermione's explanation – a giant metal bird of sorts, capable of speeds many times faster than even the best racing brooms, large enough to transport dozens of Muggles but somehow still able to remain airborne. It was with a laugh that Hermione suggested she might have to take him to an airport someday to see the planes in action.

The village was just beyond the crest of a small hill, and Hermione exclaimed with delight over how quaint it was – the old-fashioned charm reminded her very much of Godric's Hollow. They meandered slowly through the streets, passing cottages with thatched roofs, a handful of shops, a pub, a post office, and a small stone church before stopping outside a café.

"Shall we go in?" Hermione asked. She herself was more than ready for lunch, but she didn't want to push Draco into something if he wasn't prepared for it.

"Alright." The answer was a noncommittal one, but Hermione took his lack of protest as a positive sign and pushed open the door, a little bell jingling overhead as they stepped inside. The shop itself was rustic and cozy, and Hermione walked up to the counter to study the menu, which was posted on a large chalkboard on the wall.

"Afternoon, miss," the shopkeeper said. He was a portly man with a short brown beard and kind blue eyes. "What can I get for you today?"

"Hmm…" For such a small shop, there was quite a selection. "I'm not quite sure, actually – what would you recommend?" In reality, Hermione had a decent idea of what she wanted, but she also wanted to show Draco a typical Muggle customer-employee interaction, to show him that it really wasn't so different at all from a similar exchange in a Wizarding establishment. That and she wanted to give him a moment to get comfortable – as a former Slytherin, Draco would never show such a weakness so openly, but Hermione suspected he was probably more out of his comfort zone than he let on.

"We do make all our own breads here, fresh daily," the shopkeeper said in answer to Hermione's question. "Our sandwiches are our most popular lunch option."

"Well, then, I must try one," Hermione declared. After another quick look at the menu, she placed her order, then motioned for Draco to step forward.

"How can I help you, lad?" Draco studied the menu intently for a moment before making his choice, and he watched and listened as Hermione finished up the conversation, chatting easily with the shopkeeper as she paid for their meals. The shopkeeper promised that their food would be out in just a few minutes and told them to choose any table they'd like.

"Alright, Draco?" Hermione asked once they'd sat down at a table by the window. Draco smiled slightly, knowing that Hermione just wanted to make sure he was comfortable, and nodded.

"Yeah, I am."

Lunch was delicious, and they passed the time chatting about the other shops they'd seen and which ones they'd like to pop into before heading back. They explored a toyshop and a small bookstore – Hermione made a mental note to ask Draco about his reading preferences later so she could introduce him to some Muggle literature – and they stopped in the bakery for a treat. Hermione discreetly slipped Draco the money so he could pay this time, and she inwardly beamed when he pulled off the transaction without a hitch. After a lazy walk around the town common while they ate their cookies, they stepped into a deserted alleyway and Apparated back to Star Cottage.

"Draco, you did wonderfully!" Hermione said. "And the village is absolutely lovely."

"I did like it," Draco agreed. He'd never admit to Hermione being right, of course, but he was also secretly glad they'd gone with her idea of visiting the village first – he'd definitely seen and heard a _lot_ of things he didn't understand today, and he suspected processing a small village of new experiences would be a lot easier than doing so within the much busier environment of a shopping district.

"Do you still want to carry on with the shopping plans?" Hermione asked. She thought Draco had done rather well, but she didn't want to assume anything.

"I think we can, yeah," Draco replied. "I'll contact you when I've got a day in mind?"

"You know where to find me," Hermione said with a smile. "Say goodbye to Posey for me since she's gone out, will you? I'll see you soon."

"I will. See you, Granger."

* * *

 **A/N: Stubborn Draco survived his first venture into the Muggle world, yay! We'll see how he does as things continue to progress.**

 **A quick note re: the clothes - for this fic, I'm going with the book's description of wizards' robes as a garment that pulls on over the head & doesn't require you to wear anything underneath. If that were the case, then it would be a reasonable assumption that Draco - a pureblood through and through - would never have worn anything resembling Muggle clothing before, including trousers.**

 **Thank you all for the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading! Hope you're all liking this little story so far.**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	9. The Slytherin Quintet

Due to his plans for the evening, Draco didn't have much time at all to reflect on his afternoon in the village. Almost as soon as Hermione had gone, Draco called for Posey.

"Posey, we finished everything we needed to finish for tonight, yes?" he asked the little elf. Posey nodded, her ears flapping.

"Yes, Master Draco," she said. "We is finishing everything except putting the spices on. Is Master Draco needing Posey's help getting ready for his guests?"

"If you wouldn't mind setting the table, that would be helpful," Draco replied. "For five, as usual." Posey nodded again and immediately went to the cutlery drawer while Draco himself began pulling various foodstuffs from the cupboards and the refrigerator. After consulting a sheet of parchment on the counter, he began the final preparations for tonight's dinner.

The months immediately following the war were a harsh reality check for the Slytherins in particular – the Wizarding world's disdain for all things associated with their house was almost frightfully high, and the few who weren't dead, imprisoned, or fleeing the country had bonded together almost by default. Draco's own group was quite small – in addition to himself, it consisted only of Theo Nott, Adrian Pucey, and Daphne and Astoria Greengrass – but it was very much a case of quality over quantity: he, Theo, and Daphne had become extremely close during their farce of a seventh year, and that bond had only strengthened over time. Adrian and Astoria, as Daphne's boyfriend-turned-husband and sister, were natural additions to the group, and they met as often as their extremely busy schedules would allow. In the rare event the five friends all found themselves free on the same night, they would all provide a dish for a potluck dinner. It was always a highly enjoyable experience, and Draco was very much looking forward to it. As it was his turn to host, Draco was in charge of the evening's main course, and he and Posey had selected a simple yet delicious chicken dish – thanks to his natural affinity for Potions, Draco wasn't half bad in the kitchen, and of course Posey was always eager to help, the little tidbits she'd learned from her mother more than capable of turning a mere good dish into an excellent one. Between the two of them, Draco was confident that his portion of the meal would turn out well.

Once he'd finished getting the chicken in the oven, Draco thanked Posey for her lovely work in setting the table – she'd even hurried out to the garden to provide a centerpiece of fresh flowers – and after telling her to take the rest of the night for herself, he hastened to his room to change. Knowing he would need the borrowed Muggle clothes once more, he carefully folded and set them aside before selecting a set of casual robes. He then returned to the living room for one last check, and once he was certain that everything was in order, he settled down to wait for his guests. It wasn't long before he heard a sharp, crisp knocking at his door.

"Right on time, as always," he said as he opened the door to reveal Adrian and Daphne.

"Have you ever known me to be anything but?" Daphne replied with a smile. She paused in the entryway to accept her host's kiss to her cheek. "Good to see you, Draco."

"You as well." Draco clasped hands with Adrian, the two men exchanging their own greetings, and the trio made their way into the main living space.

"We'll set everything on the counter for now," Draco said as he accepted the packages Adrian carried. "What have you brought today?"

"The first one's mashed potatoes, and the second is a vegetable mix," Adrian told him.

"That will do perfectly," Draco said with a nod. His eyes sparkled mischievously as he added, "Unless, of course, you let your lovely wife had anything to do with their preparation." Daphne swatted his arm and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Prat. You know perfectly well Adrian doesn't let me in his kitchen." It wasn't without good reason, either – the few times Daphne had attempted to cook, she'd nearly burned down their kitchen. No matter how many times they got together, the others could never resist a laugh over the fact that Daphne couldn't even touch a stirring spoon without her husband's permission. What she lacked in cooking skills, however, she more than made up for in wine knowledge – Draco didn't know anyone, not even any of the society wives in his mother's former circle, who knew even half as much about fine wines as Daphne did. No matter who was hosting, Daphne always provided the wine, and as she pulled the chosen vintage from its own special bag, Draco knew whatever it was would be excellent.

"The others should be here soon," Daphne said as they retreated to the sitting room and Draco offered around drinks. "Tori probably forgot something, and you know how Theo is."

"Compulsively late, yes – I still don't know how he ever managed to be on time to classes when we were still at school."

"The inner workings of Theodore Nott – one of life's greatest mysteries, I'm sure," Daphne laughed. Conversation flowed easily from there, and Draco couldn't help but smile at how carefree everything felt. It was such a stark contrast to his time at school that he almost didn't believe it was real, and he considered himself extremely lucky that it was.

Draco wouldn't necessarily say he'd been friends with Daphne in school – she'd never gotten along with Pansy, who'd been stuck to Draco's side like glue through their first five years at Hogwarts, and for a reason Draco could never quite pinpoint, his housemate had always come across as rather unapproachable. Daphne was unquestionably one of the prettiest girls in his year, with chestnut-colored hair that tumbled effortlessly halfway down her back and dark green eyes that sparkled when she laughed, but it wasn't until sixth year that Draco really had a chance to see beyond her looks. It was long after curfew one night, and he'd been sitting in the common room, alone – things with Pansy had long since gone sideways, and of course he didn't spend any more time with Crabbe and Goyle than was absolutely necessary – when Daphne had cautiously approached him and offered to listen if he ever found himself needing someone to talk to. He'd declined at the time – in a manner probably far ruder than necessary – but the encounter had stuck with him, and he'd still remembered it vividly when he'd returned for his seventh year and seen her again. He'd never quite known if Daphne had somehow known that he was questioning Voldemort's practices even then, and he'd never asked, but that first conversation had sparked something, and all through their seventh year, they'd leaned on each other for support while doing what they could to protect the younger years from the Carrows. Daphne's best qualities had come out in full force that year – she was fiercely loyal to those she loved, and her natural mothering instincts were a comfort to many frightened youngsters. Sixth year had been terrible for countless reasons, but Draco honestly didn't know how he would've survived seventh without Daphne's calming presence.

Draco's Hogwarts relationship with Adrian was hardly any better than his relationship with Daphne – they'd played Quidditch together for a short time, but as Adrian was a year older, they hadn't shared any classes and ran in mostly different circles, and the Puceys' neutrality meant that Adrian's wartime experience hadn't been nearly as bad. He'd definitely lost people, of course – no one, on either side, had escaped the war unscathed – but neither he nor his family had had to face trials or the stigma of the Dark Mark. These differences made it hard for Draco and Adrian to understand one another at first – they had Daphne in common though, and as they were both determined to keep her in their lives (albeit for very different reasons), the two young men began spending more time together, and they now valued each other's friendship very much.

A second knock interrupted Adrian's retelling of an amusing work story, and Draco opened the door to reveal the smiling face of Astoria Greengrass.

"Draco, darling, it's wonderful to see you!" she said brightly. She stretched herself up onto her toes to kiss his cheek in greeting, Draco meeting her halfway – even though Draco wasn't exceptionally tall, Astoria was absolutely tiny and wouldn't have been able to reach him otherwise. "How are you, love? And where would you like the cake?"

"Tori, is that you?" Daphne joined Draco and Astoria in the front hall and embraced her sister, the two immediately chattering away as Daphne took the cake box and walked it into the kitchen. Draco smiled fondly as he followed – as a Healer, Astoria had the busiest schedule of any of them by far, and the two girls always cherished these opportunities to spend time together and catch up. Already, they were laughing as if no time had passed at all.

Aside from the height difference – Daphne was tall and willowy, like a model – the Greengrass sisters could have easily passed for twins in looks, but Astoria was also very much her own person. She was their little group's comic relief, always keeping things lighthearted, and she was a fantastic listener, a trait that earned her many friends at Hogwarts. In fact, Draco and the others often joked that Astoria had been mis-Sorted, insisting that she was more suited to Hufflepuff than Slytherin. She worked hard and played harder, defended her friends with a vengeance, and those who managed to earn her loyalty were very lucky indeed. However, she'd also been just fifteen at the height of the war, and though she'd been brave, she'd also been very scared, and she was glad to have her big sister there for protection and comfort. Draco, by extension, had been drawn into her circle of guardians, and he'd found himself growing very close to the younger Greengrass – she was the little sister he never had, the little sister that some small part of him had always yearned for. Even now, she let him play the big brother role without complaint – for the most part, anyway.

Theodore Nott was the last to arrive. Draco and Theo had known each other for years even before they'd gone to Hogwarts, but they hadn't necessarily been close – Draco had viewed Theo as an equal, acknowledging his intelligence and his pure bloodline, but they hadn't gone beyond that at first. As they'd gotten older, however, Draco had learned to see past that to the person Theo was underneath, and he was very lucky he had. As the son of a Death Eater, Theo was one of the few people who'd understood what Draco was facing in sixth and seventh year, as well as after the war – like Lucius, the elder Nott was in prison for life, and Theo's mother had died when he was very small – and Draco didn't know how he would've made it through those rough years without Theo by his side. Theo was quiet but extremely smart, and he was always impeccably dressed – his dark hair was always perfectly coiffed, and his sleek silver glasses were as much a fashion accessory as they were a visual necessity. Theo did accounting work for the Department of Magical Games and Sports and had gotten them all great seats to a number of Quidditch matches over the years – as Draco and Adrian had both played for Slytherin, this particular perk was always met with great enthusiasm.

"Now, now, no need to crowd," Theo said with a grin as he entered the living room.

"The only crowding I'm going to be doing is around the kitchen counter," Astoria retorted cheekily. "Now that _somebody_ finally decided to grace us with his presence…"

"Hey – this sort of perfection takes time, you know."

"Yes, yes, we know – us mere mortals could never hold a candle to you. Now, if you don't mind, St. Mungo's doesn't exactly have the best food on offer…"

"You'd think, being a hospital, that they'd provide their employees with something decent, something healthy, at least," Draco commented as he pulled the chicken from the oven.

"You would think," Astoria said dryly.

"Well, you're in luck, Tori – the chicken's done." Draco set the dish in its appropriate place and found the appropriate utensils, and the friends grabbed plates from the table and helped themselves before settling down to eat, their easy chatter resuming once more.

"Any news from the League, Theo?" Draco asked once he'd swallowed his mouthful of potatoes.

"Well, would you rather hear about the current drama between Ballycastle and Falmouth, or the shock that the Cannons actually won a game?" Theo replied with a grin.

"The relationship drama was old two months ago," Astoria said flippantly. "They need to get over it and stop playing so badly." A Chaser for Ballycastle and a Beater for Falmouth had recently ended their on-again, off-again relationship for good, and the backlash was severely affecting both teams' play – they'd both dropped several places in the standings in just the last few weeks, and the fans were more than fed up with the players' inability to keep their personal drama off the pitch.

"I think _Witch Weekly's_ got that one covered, thanks," Adrian said dryly, much to the amusement of the others. "You say the Cannons actually won a match? Who was having an off day?"

"The Magpies' star Chaser is ill – a milder strain of Dragon Pox, I believe, but whatever it is, he's been bedridden for over a week now," Theo explained. "Their replacement really isn't very good at all, and though the Cannons still can't score for anything, their Beaters are good enough that the Magpies couldn't score as many goals as usual, and the Cannons' Seeker managed to catch the Snitch."

"I suppose they do have to win occasionally," Daphne said. "The League wouldn't keep a team around that lost _every_ game, would they?"

"Try telling the fans that," Theo said with a chuckle. "Cannons fans are some of the most loyal out there – they have to be, when they so rarely have a decent record. Suggest dissolving their team and they'd probably riot."

"Fair enough." Daphne then turned to Draco. "Enough about Quidditch for now – what have you been up to lately, Draco?"

"Well, I went and explored the village today." Daphne looked at him.

"I wasn't aware there was a village nearby."

"There is – twenty minutes' walk up the road. Quaint little place…and Muggle biscuits aren't half bad." Draco said all this in his usual nonchalant manner, but his friends' reactions were anything but.

"Hang on – did you say _Muggle_ biscuits?" Theo asked. He reached over to slap Astoria on the back – she'd been drinking her wine when Draco had spoken and had nearly choked on it.

"I did, yes."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," Astoria scolded, still sputtering a bit, "is this one of those 'I'm-purposely-leaving-out-all-but-the-bombshell' moments that you're so fond of?"

"Perhaps," Draco said with a grin. "But you've got one thing wrong, Tori dear – I haven't dropped the bombshell yet."

"Haven't…Draco, you just told us that _you_ of all people visited a _Muggle_ village, and you're telling me that's _not_ the bombshell?" Astoria gaped at him in amazement, then said, "Alright, that's it – I demand an explanation. Dinner adjourned." Draco snorted in amusement at Astoria's declaration, but he dutifully followed suit as everyone left the table to settle on the couches in the living room.

"Explain," Astoria insisted once she'd curled up against him like a cat. It was a position they adopted often – not because they had anything more than platonic feelings for one another, but because Astoria had both wanted and needed the comfort during the war. Her habit of using him as a pillow hadn't faded after they'd left school, but Draco didn't mind – the Gryffindors' casual affection had always mystified him somewhat, purebloods not being the type to do such a thing, but once he'd experienced it for himself, he'd finally understood that he'd been missing something far more valuable than gold or jewels.

"You all remember Granger, of course." It wasn't a question – it was next to impossible for anyone _not_ to remember Hermione Granger, especially if they'd gone to school with her.

"What's she up to these days?" Daphne asked curiously.

"She went back to school after the war – did her seventh year, and then attended a Muggle university," Draco said. "Now she's working on a pet project of hers involving Muggle Studies at Hogwarts."

"And what does this have to do with the village up the road?" Theo asked.

"Patience, Theo – I'm getting there. This requires a bit of background on her project. Now, I don't recall any of you taking Muggle Studies" – he paused, nodding thoughtfully when the others all shook their heads – "I thought not. I certainly didn't take it either – but Granger did, and according to her, it's a joke of a class. No wizard would ever be able to thrive in the Muggle world on that class alone, not by a long shot.

"Conversely, Muggle-borns have a similar problem. I never knew – and I had no reason to, of course – but Muggle-born students receive little to no instruction in the ways of the Wizarding world before being thrown headfirst into our midst, and they're entirely on their own after that. Granger had never even seen Wizarding gold until her first visit to Gringotts, and though she bought herself _Hogwarts, A History_ and read it back-to-front several times before term began, she still stuck out like a sore thumb."

"That she did," Theo agreed. "Bossy little thing – acted like she was better than the rest of us just because she'd memorized her textbooks."

"She was horribly insecure, wasn't she?" Astoria asked. When the others looked at her quizzically, she added, "Of course I didn't know her then, but I saw similar cases in the Muggle-borns in my year – she _knew_ she wasn't going to fit in like those of us who'd been in the Wizarding world our entire lives, so she turned to something she knew had never failed her before: academics. Only this time, her plan backfired – she stood out, but for all the wrong reasons."

"Do you all remember the first time you saw a unicorn, or a ghost?" Draco asked.

"I remember my first unicorn," Daphne said, her face lit up with a dreamy smile. "It was so beautiful – a young one, pure silver with a mane like silk."

"And of course, the ghosts attend every opening feast," Adrian added.

"Of course – but while those experiences might've been awe-inspiring or even a little frightening, they didn't surprise you. Muggle-borns, on the other hand, aren't even aware those things exist until those first encounters – Granger said she nearly fainted the first time a ghost spoke to her, because up until that point, ghosts weren't even real to her. Muggles know unicorns only in stories.

"Long story short, unless Granger went to McGonagall or another professor to ask questions, she was entirely on her own to figure out this new environment, this new culture. Those of us who sneered at her presence at Hogwarts weren't exactly wrong in saying she didn't belong there – after all, she could memorize spells and potions recipes all she wanted, but she was still utterly ignorant of the customs that define the Wizarding world – but neither did anyone do anything to change that."

"That's her goal, isn't it?" Adrian said suddenly. "That's her project."

"Yes. Granger's goal is twofold, actually – she wants to create a class at Hogwarts that allows for an immersive study of _both_ cultures, so that when students leave school, they can function in either society with ease. Obviously, she herself is focusing on the Muggle side of the curriculum, but the Wizarding side will receive equal attention."

"And your role in this is…?" Theo questioned as he took a sip of his drink.

"I'm Granger's test subject," Draco replied. "She's trying all her lessons on me first – I'm about as ignorant of Muggles as they come, so if the lessons work for me, they'll work for Hogwarts."

"Why?" Daphne asked. Draco looked up at her.

"Why what?"

"Why the sudden interest in Muggle culture? I mean, I understand that your views towards Muggle-borns have changed, but Muggles are something else entirely, aren't they?"

"Muggles don't know who I am, Daph," Draco said quietly. "They don't understand that this" – he pulled up his left sleeve to expose the faded remnants of his Dark Mark – "is more than just an ugly tattoo, and they don't know anything of my family's history. When Granger and I visited the village today, we stopped at a café for lunch, and the owner asked, 'What can I get for you, lad?' – it was such a simple question, but it was such a shock to hear it asked without disdain or fear. To him, I was just a person…and I kind of liked it." Daphne nodded in understanding.

"There's more." Draco paused, wanting to make sure he phrased his next thoughts carefully. "I've been thinking a lot since Healer Constantine's article went to print." He saw the brief flash of pain in Daphne's eyes and winced in sympathy – no doubt, she would be feeling that loss for a long time, if not forever.

"We have no one to blame but ourselves for that mess," Daphne whispered. "Our pureblooded pride has come back to haunt us." Adrian pulled his wife closer and squeezed her shoulders in comfort, their fingers entwining as if they'd never let go.

"Yet we are not at fault for being proud of our culture," Draco said gently. "We're finally admitting – at great cost, unfortunately – that we went about it the wrong way, but there's nothing wrong with loving who you are and wanting to pass that knowledge and sense of self along to your children. But as we're learning the hard way, there soon won't be anyone left to hand down our customs if we don't change our ways. Someone has to be willing to make the first move – and though I might not succeed, I'm willing to try."

Silence reigned for several minutes as the group contemplated Draco's words. Then…

"You're willing to marry a _Muggle?"_ All eyes were on Astoria, her own green orbs wide as she stared up at Draco. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," she added hastily, "but who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?" Draco sighed.

"That's just it, Tori. That Draco Malfoy doesn't exist anymore – he hasn't, not for a long time. It's a drastic suggestion, yeah, but why not? The rest of the Wizarding world hates me, so it's not like I'm going to have any luck there unless I leave the country, and I refuse to do that – I've taken the coward's way out for far too long."

"I understand, mate," Theo said softly. Draco shot him a grateful look – Theo wasn't Marked like he was, but the younger Nott still faced plenty of consternation and scorn for his father's prominent role in the war. If anyone could empathize with and understand Draco's decision, it was Theo.

"We'll support you, Draco," Daphne added. "I'm sure it won't be easy, but I admire how much you're willing to try – you deserve that happiness."

"I don't know about that, but I'll learn something, at least," Draco replied.

"Draco, don't sell yourself short – we all know what happened during the war, yes, but you've more than made up for it – are still making up for it, in everything you do. Don't ever say that what happened then makes you undeserving of love." Draco smiled softly and reached over as best he could to squeeze her hand.

"Thanks, Daph – all of you."

"At the risk of sounding like a Hufflepuff, we're here for you."

"That _did_ sound like a Hufflepuff, Theo."

"Shut up. Now that you've told us about your desire to see how the other half lives, might as well tell us what you've learned, eh? I'm curious to know what Granger's teaching you…"

* * *

 **A/N: A little look into Draco's group of friends - hope you liked it!**

 **Thank you to everyone who followed/faved/reviewed since last time, & thanks to all of you for reading!**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	10. You're Never Fully Dressed

A week and a half later, Draco and Hermione finally went on their shopping expedition. Draco would never admit it to Hermione, but he'd chosen the date because it gave him time to return to the village on his own, where he not only enjoyed another meal or two at the little café they'd visited on their first trip, but also sat on a bench in the common and – surreptitiously, of course – studied the locals. He studied their mannerisms, noting with interest that Muggles really weren't all that different from witches and wizards after all, and he studied their clothing, both the various styles and how they were worn. Broadcasting utter cluelessness absolutely would not do, and so he'd resolved to learn as many tips and tricks as he could before the outing.

Hermione arrived at Star Cottage at nine o'clock in the morning on the appointed day – except this time, she hadn't Apparated. Instead, she sat behind the wheel of a little blue sedan. There was no way of knowing if there was a decent Apparition spot anywhere near their chosen shopping district, and besides, if Draco truly was serious about pursuing relationships – of any sort – with Muggles, he'd have to have firsthand experience with Muggle transportation. Today's adventure was going to be as authentic as she could make it, and that included a ride in her car.

"Good morning!" she said brightly as she hopped out of the car and walked up the path.

"Morning, Granger." Draco, who was once again wearing the clothes Hermione had given him, took a long look at the car, tilting his head to one side as he studied it intently.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione couldn't explain why, but she was suddenly feeling rather defensive of her little car. It certainly wasn't the sleekest, sportiest, or priciest model out there, but it was hers, and…

"I don't think I've ever been this close to a car before," Draco mused, seemingly ignoring Hermione's question. Whether he intended it as an answer or not, however, his statement made Hermione relax – not to mention feel a little foolish – as soon as he'd said it.

 _He's probably never even_ seen _a car before, silly!_ she chastised herself. _Have you forgotten the_ point _of this whole thing?_

Learning experience, indeed.

"You'll see plenty of them today, I'm sure," Hermione told him. "We can certainly take a look around the car park when we get there if you'd like."

"Car park?"

"It's where you leave your car while you visit a store, restaurant, or other public establishment," Hermione said. "They vary greatly in size depending on how big a place they're connected to – some have room for a few dozen cars, while others can easily park several hundred." Draco nodded that he understood, still never taking his eyes off the car.

"Shall we?" She gestured towards their ride, and Draco followed her down the path to the waiting vehicle. Hermione unlocked it – having locked it by force of habit when she'd gotten out – and once they were both inside, she showed Draco how to fasten his seatbelt while explaining its purpose and the importance of wearing one.

"They may not look it, but they're very strong, and proven lifesavers," she said.

"Is driving dangerous?" Draco asked.

"Not usually, no – certainly no more so than flying a broom. You have to pass a test to show that you understand both the rules of the road and how to operate a car safely to get a driver's license, and it's usually extenuating circumstances that cause the truly horrific crashes. But even so, I'm still about to operate a piece of machinery many times heavier and more powerful than myself, and following all the safety precautions is an important step."

"So it's a bit like Apparition in that sense, then."

"Yes – of course, the chances of hurting someone else while Apparating are far slimmer unless you're frequently doing Side-Along, but the safety principles are the same." Hermione put the key in the ignition and started the car, the engine purring as it came to life.

"Ready for your first car ride, Draco?" she asked. She shifted the car into drive, and off they went.

Draco kept a firm hold on the passenger door's handrail for the first few minutes of the drive as he got used to the odd sensation, but he relaxed a bit as they continued smoothly toward the highway. Hermione wasn't surprised – he'd been a Quidditch player, after all, racing through the skies at top speed on something much smaller – and far less secure – than her car for years. She suppressed a giggle as Draco then proceeded to spend the rest of the ride interrogating her about the many buttons, levers, and switches on the dashboard and around the steering wheel, wanting to know what each one did, how, and why. When he tired of that, he fiddled with the radio, pausing at each clear station to listen to a bit of the musical selections. Muggle music was much more varied than its Wizarding counterpart – Hermione would have to give him a more in-depth education on that later – but he still got a good sampling. By the time they reached their destination, Draco could definitely carry on a decent conversation about cars, and Hermione knew he was curious about some of the bands they'd heard as well. Driving a bit slower than usual so Draco could take in his surroundings, Hermione maneuvered her way over to the shopping mall, found the car park, and snagged a spot near one of the entrances.

"One of the perks of shopping on a Tuesday – we'd rarely be able to park this close on a weekend," she said as she turned the key. She turned to face Draco and just caught the briefest flash of uncertainty on his face – he masked his emotions well, but Hermione had gotten quite good at reading people, especially after the war when _everyone_ had been trying to hide the true extent of their pain, and she knew that he was probably feeling far more out of his element than he would ever outwardly show. Knowing he probably wouldn't appreciate words of comfort, she merely squeezed his arm briefly before opening her door and stepping from the car. Draco followed suit, and after Hermione had locked up, the two made their way into the mall.

Hermione deliberately chose a department store as their starting point, knowing it would offer the most in terms of variety and selection – if, during their browsing here, Draco found specific styles he really liked, they could then narrow their search to the smaller brand stores. She glanced at the floor guide and made for the men's department, Draco following close behind.

"Can I help you?" The speaker was a smartly dressed older woman, and Hermione smiled – she normally didn't interact much with salespeople when she shopped, but in this case, it was exactly what they needed.

"Yes, thanks," she replied. "See, my friend here recently suffered a house fire – no one was hurt and the fire didn't get far, but almost his entire wardrobe was destroyed. We're going to need a complete overhaul." She and Draco had decided on this story together – it easily explained why he needed so many new things, as they were bound to accumulate far more than even the most dedicated shoppers.

"It sounds like you were quite fortunate," the saleswoman replied, buying their story without question. "Let's see what we can do for you – do you know your sizes, young man?"

"Not exactly, but I do have my measurements," Draco replied, drawing a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Hermione had instructed him on which measurements he'd need – magical establishments measured many things that would've had the Muggle saleswoman raising her eyebrows in confusion – and he'd dutifully verified them and written them down.

"I can work with that," the saleswoman said as she accepted the paper. She studied it for a moment, nodded, and said, "If you'll follow me, then…"

Luck was definitely on their side that day, Hermione mused as she and Draco followed the saleswoman through the many racks of clothing on display. The woman had obviously been in the industry for a while – not only did she have no problem translating Draco's measurements into sizes, but she didn't bat an eye at his questions and also asked plenty of questions of her own to ensure that her selections were appropriate. Finally, armed with a small mountain of clothing, she ushered Draco into a fitting room.

Hermione was pleasantly surprised when Draco reemerged. He'd chosen a pair of khaki-colored dress slacks and a blue button-down to try first – ignorant of the fact that he'd been back to the village, Hermione didn't know how he'd learned how to tuck the shirt in so perfectly, but she had to admit it looked good.

"Very nice," she said approvingly. "I like that color on you – nice change from your usual black." The blue of the shirt also made his eyes pop, but Hermione wasn't about to feed his ego any more than necessary.

"It's a good look for you, dear," the saleswoman agreed. Draco studied himself in the mirror, nodded his approval, and retreated back into the dressing room.

Trying on the clothes took an eternity, but Hermione tried to be patient as Draco came out and showed her each new look. She knew exactly why he was doing it – normally, most people would just try things on for themselves, keep what they liked and leave what they didn't, and that would be that, but Draco's lack of knowledge in the subject necessitated an outside opinion.

"You've got yourself a fine-looking young man," the saleswoman commented after Draco had disappeared for what felt like the thousandth time. Hermione nearly choked.

"Oh, goodness, no – it's not like that!" she protested. She could feel her face flushing in embarrassment and hoped Draco stayed away for a few minutes – if he came out now, he was bound to notice her brick-red cheeks, and he would _definitely_ ask her about it later. The saleswoman smiled knowingly.

"Just a dedicated friend? If you say so, my dear." She chuckled a little as Hermione sputtered and turned even redder.

The sad thing was, the saleswoman was right, at least partly – Draco _was_ a good-looking bloke. Hermione had never once thought him so during school – his features had been far too pointy back then, but even if he'd been the most gorgeous boy in school, his atrocious personality would've easily canceled that out, and then some. But he definitely wasn't that boy anymore, and that included his physical looks – the pointiness had smoothed out as he had grown up, and he now sported the aristocratic features favored by the Black family, including a flawless (albeit pale) complexion, and cheekbones that could cut glass. He'd stopped slicking back his hair long ago, leaving it to fall naturally across his forehead to just brush his ears, and of course Hermione was highly envious of its perpetually perfect state – while puberty had tamed her wild frizz into far more manageable curls, she still had her fair share of bad hair days. He was slightly taller than Harry but was still a few inches shy of six feet – Ron was probably the only one Hermione knew who had topped that mark – and he was slender and lean, like a runner. His eyes, Hermione thought, were his most remarkable feature – that deep gray, like a summer storm, was such an unusual color, and with the barest hint of blue occasionally showing through, it made for quite the combination. Hermione struggled to find a word that described him overall, though, and it wasn't until Draco reemerged in another shirt accentuating those eyes that she found it: striking. Draco Malfoy was a striking individual.

Finally, Draco had made his way through the entire pile of clothes and had sorted everything based on what he liked and what he didn't. Hermione noted with a slight giggle that there wasn't anything red in _either_ pile, and wondered if that had been one of Draco's requests when he'd talked with the saleswoman – after all, Muggle clothing might be a brand new adventure, but asking Draco Malfoy to wear such a _Gryffindor_ color might just be a bit too much. They hauled their selections over to the register and Hermione paid, trying to keep her cheeks from flushing anew as she swiped her card and the saleswoman gave her a knowing smile. Hermione didn't blame her, of course – after all, she'd not only brought Draco to the store and sat through an hours-long fashion show, but now she was paying for it all as well? Of course the woman would think her 'just friends' claim was a bit off – but as Hermione didn't have a more concrete story that a Muggle would believe, she just accepted the temporary embarrassment and completed the transaction as quickly as she could. At least she'd never have to see the woman again after this.

At last, purchase made and clothes bagged, Hermione and Draco left the department store. They'd spent so much time in the store that it was well past typical lunchtime, and they promptly turned their attention to hunting down something to calm their grumbling stomachs. Hermione experienced a fresh wave of amusement at the sight of Draco eating a hamburger – she couldn't imagine that her aristocratic companion had ever done anything so plebian as eat with his hands before. He seemed to be enjoying it, but at the same time, it definitely looked like it was a new experience.

"Just wait 'til I take you out for fish and chips," she said, still fighting the urge to laugh.

"Fish and chips?" Hermione stared at him for a long moment before she realized it had been a serious question.

"You've really never heard of fish and chips? Honestly, Malfoy, are you sure you're actually British?" Draco quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I thought we'd already discussed my ancestors' arrival in England, nearly a thousand years ago…" he said slowly. Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

"Yes, yes, I remember…really though…no fish and chips…"

Draco was still questioning Hermione about fish and chips long after they'd cleaned up and moved on, and he grew even more confused when she couldn't explain precisely what was so fantastic about them.

"I cannot, in good conscience, propose to give you a full insight into the world of Muggles without a trip to the pub," she finally said. "Of course, I know you've frequented the Leaky Cauldron and the Hogsmeade pubs on many occasions, but as they serve neither fish and chips nor Muggle alcohol, a trip to the pub is on the list." Deciding that the matter was settled, she dragged him off to the next store.

By the time the pair finally returned to Hermione's car, they were utterly exhausted, and Hermione had lost track of how often she'd had to stop Draco from drawing out his wand and casting lightening charms on their bags. In addition to their purchases from the first shop, Draco also had several new pairs of shoes in a number of styles and colors, a warm but classy winter coat, and proper raingear. The packages filled every spare inch of Hermione's trunk and backseat, and once they'd returned to Star Cottage, they took two trips rather than carry everything inside all at once.

Posey's eyes widened almost comically when she saw all the bags.

"Master Draco and Miss Hermione is being successful?"

"Very," Hermione said, offering the little elf a smile. "I think Draco might have chosen half the mall by the time we got out of there."

"Hardly," Draco replied with a sniff. "You told me I needed a Muggle wardrobe, and so I selected a Muggle wardrobe. I think I passed with flying colors, did I not?"

"If your goal was to spend a small fortune, then yes, I'd say you did," Hermione shot back with a grin. Posey had to hide her giggle behind her hands – Master Draco's bantering with Miss Hermione was so entertaining, and it was good to see him acting so carefree.

"Master Draco is showing Posey his new clothes?" she asked in an effort to keep a straight face. Draco looked at Hermione, who shrugged.

"What do you think?" she asked. "Willing to play fashion show one more time?" It was Draco's turn to shrug.

"Why not…" He grabbed a handful of the nearest parcels and retreated to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. After a few minutes, he returned. Posey's eyes widened again as she studied his ensemble: a deep blue sweater over a white button-down, dark wash jeans, and one of his new pairs of shoes. Draco paused and did a little spin in the middle of his living room, holding his arms out to the side for inspection. For a moment, Posey didn't speak, just studied Draco intently. Finally, she met his gaze.

"Posey thinks Master Draco is looking very handsome indeed," she said, still looking up at him in awe. Draco dropped his arms to his sides – Hermione noticed that one hand drifted to rest casually in his front pocket as if he'd been doing so all his life – and he chuckled at Posey's never-ending positivity.

"You really think so, Posey?" he asked. Posey nodded fervently.

"Posey does. What does Miss Hermione think?"

"Ah, yes…what _does_ Miss Hermione think, hmm?" Draco echoed, grinning mischievously at the blush painting Hermione's cheeks.

"I already told you at the shops that you looked nice!" she said hotly. She had, in fact, done just that – _many_ times, as Draco had felt the need to show her _every single thing_ he'd tried on. "No need to hunt for an ego boost…" Draco snorted, and Hermione, who couldn't think of a better retort, stuck her tongue out in response.

"Cute, Granger," Draco said dryly.

"Oh, shut it…"

After a long pause, Hermione added, "It's late and I still have to drive home – I should probably be going."

"Fair enough," Draco replied. "You'll let me know when our next lesson is?"

"If you haven't already got it planned," Hermione said cheekily, alluding to his insistence that the shopping trip be done first. She tilted her head, looking thoughtful, and added, "Actually, if you wanted to work in Muggle holidays, we could go to a Bonfire Night celebration."

"Bonfire Night?" Hermione didn't know why, but Draco suddenly looked wary.

"Yes – it's a British holiday at the beginning of November," she explained. "It's also called Guy Fawkes Day, after the man who tried to blow up Parliament. He failed, but we still celebrate it with food and bonfires and…"

"No." Hermione stopped talking and looked up.

"Sorry?"

"I said, no." Draco's tone was no longer playful, or even friendly. In fact, he sounded so much like Hogwarts-era Draco that Hermione almost recoiled in shock. "I have no desire to celebrate your Muggle holiday."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, her shock giving way to quiet anger. There was no mistaking his emphasis, however slight, on the word 'Muggle'. After all they'd been through – _years'_ worth of chats in her office, several very successful lessons – and he was reverting back to his old self, sneering at Muggle customs just as he'd done all throughout school. Hermione wasn't about to give in to the bait and start an argument, though – he might be back to being childish, but that didn't mean she would stoop to his level.

"Fine," she said evenly. "I think we're done for tonight, then. Goodnight, Posey." Without another word or a backwards glance, she let herself out and was gone.

The sounds of Hermione's car hadn't even fully faded before Draco sank to the couch, his head in his hands.

 _Shit._

* * *

 **A/N: Well, it can't all be sunshine & roses, can it? We'll learn more about that in a future chapter. Next up: an international Floo call!**

 **Thank you for all your support since last time - reviews, follows, faves, or just reading, I appreciate it all!**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R & enjoy, & I hope wherever you are, it's finally starting to feel like spring! :)**


	11. Halloween, Floo Style

"And _then_ he wouldn't even let me explain what Bonfire Night _was!_ He just cut me off with his 'I have no desire to celebrate your _Muggle_ holiday.' I thought he'd made some serious progress, but no – he was right back to that elitist, prejudiced, pain-in-the-arse pompous _prick_ he was at school!"

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. Hermione had been pacing in front of their couch and ranting about Malfoy for nearly an hour now, and they were secretly impressed by the extensive arsenal of foul words she'd used to describe the ex-Slytherin – sure, Hermione swore occasionally, almost everyone did, but she hardly ever went off like _this._ But even though they understood that their best friend was upset, they couldn't help but think they were missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. They'd heard enough about Hermione's interactions with Malfoy – as well as his interactions with Wizarding Britain in general – to know that he _had_ changed quite a bit. Hell, he'd gone so far as to seek Hermione's help in actively becoming a member of Muggle society! That he'd suddenly sneer at a mere holiday just didn't seem right – no, something else was going on here.

"Erm…Hermione?" Ginny asked tentatively. "Not that I don't understand your point, but are you sure you aren't missing something?"

"What?" Hermione stopped her pacing and her ranting to stare at her friend.

"I said, are you sure you aren't missing something? Whenever you've told us about your past conversations with Draco, they've always seemed so positive. It sounds awfully strange to say so, but this abrupt about-face just seems so…out of character."

"How so?" Hermione demanded. "He had no trouble being a first-class bastard at school."

"But that's just it, Hermione – he was like that _at school._ We're not at school anymore, and even if we were, the war changed all of us too much, you know that," Harry chimed in. "You yourself have been saying for a few years now that Malfoy's changed more than almost any of us, and I've seen that, too – would he really have volunteered to test your lessons for you if he hadn't?"

"Harry, you didn't hear what he said," Hermione said stubbornly. "You didn't see the look on his face – it was _exactly_ how he used to look down on me at school."

"All I'm saying is there might be a reason for it," Harry said gently. "No, listen – you were always on my back for being an idiot in school when I did something without knowing all the facts, and you were right, every single time. I just think it might not be a bad idea to hear Malfoy's side of the story first, even though you might not want to."

Hermione stared at Harry for a long moment, her eyes narrowed, and Harry wondered if she might go off on another of her rants, this time targeting him…but she didn't. Instead, she sighed heavily and slumped into a nearby armchair, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

"He was so horrible, Harry," she said morosely. "But…a part of me knows you're right. I _am_ jumping to conclusions without knowing everything, aren't I? And I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't follow my own advice…" She paused and sat up straighter. "But I can't do it unless he apologizes. I need to know that he didn't mean it like that, and why he said it like that in the first place."

"That's fair." Harry reached over and squeezed her hand. "You and Malfoy have a long history, not all of it good – it's expected that you'd want to know why he suddenly reverted back to his old way of viewing Muggles. But – and believe me, me saying this really is as bizarre as it sounds – you two have developed a decent relationship since the war, and I'd hate to see you throw that away on a misunderstanding."

"When did you get so wise?" Hermione asked, managing a small smile.

"When I finally learned that listening to you was a good idea," Harry replied with a laugh. "You're known as the 'Brightest Witch of the Age' for a reason, Hermione – trust yourself to know what to do, and I'm sure you'll do what's right."

Hermione nodded and leaned back again, thinking over everything Harry and Ginny had just said and how it all related to her argument with Draco. They hadn't spoken since that day – over a week, now – and as mad as she still was about the whole thing, Hermione had to admit she missed him. Their conversations brought some excitement to her day, mostly because Draco was one of the few people who could actually keep up with her and wouldn't back down when faced with her stubborn streak, and planning hypothetical lessons for future Hogwarts students just didn't seem as satisfying. She had more of a purpose, a more concrete path when tailoring the lessons specific to Draco's needs, and she also had a way of testing them to make sure they were effective. She desperately wanted to continue in the same vein…but her injured pride meant that she couldn't bring herself to do so unless Draco came to her first.

"Have you decided what you're going to tell Ron?" Harry asked as he glanced at his watch. Due to their busy schedule and the time difference, it wasn't often that the friends were able to communicate via any means other than letters, but every once in a while, they were lucky enough to Floo call, and Harry was expecting his fireplace to glow green at any minute. They always tried their hardest to schedule one of these Floo calls as close to Halloween as possible – Harry had had so many horrible experiences with the holiday in his childhood that the others were determined to make up for it as much as they could, and Floo calls were an excellent way to do so.

"I won't hesitate to tell him about my project, if that's what you mean," Hermione replied. "I'm certainly not going to hide anything from Ron – we all know how well that worked out in the past – and if he can't handle the fact that I'm working with Draco, well, that's just too bad."

"And there's the Hermione we know and love," Ginny said fondly. "I was getting a bit tired of the moping, to be honest." Hermione chucked a throw pillow at the redhead but couldn't suppress a laugh all the same.

"Harry?"

The trio turned to the fireplace, the flames within now a bright green. In those green flames grinned a very familiar head.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed. "Good to see you, mate!"

"It's good to see you, too," Ron replied, his grin widening. "Ginny, 'Mione…blimey, it's been ages, hasn't it?"

"It has," Hermione agreed, settling herself down on a footstool close to the fire. "Are you comfortable enough, Ron?"

"Celia's got Cushioning Charms in front of the fireplace, so yeah, I'm good," Ron said.

"And how is Celia?" Hermione asked with a knowing smile. Celia was Ron's girlfriend, and through the flames, the friends swore they saw him blush.

"She's great, really great," he said. "They had a bit of a to-do at work last week with some Transfigured chickens – you know she works for the Committee on Experimental Charms – but she still found time to teach me to make biscuits like she'd promised."

 _"You_ made biscuits?" Ginny asked in shock.

"Chocolate chip," Ron said proudly. "And I didn't burn anything – well, not much, anyway. They even tasted like biscuits – mostly."

"Ron, I'm so happy for you," Hermione said warmly. "It sounds like Celia's been really good for you."

"Enough about me," Ron said dismissively, probably in an attempt to hide his continuing embarrassment. "What have you lot been up to? How's England? Tell me everything."

And so they did. Harry gave Ron a complete update on the Auror office, the two friends comparing notes on their respective departments and how they worked, and Ron was both thrilled and a little envious of Ginny's success with the Holyhead Harpies.

"I scored four goals in last week's match against the Arrows," Ginny announced proudly. Ron's eyes widened.

"That's great, Gin! I really wish I could be there to see some of your games – Quidditch is gaining in popularity here, but it's always going to be second to Quodpot, so it's harder to find a really good team to watch." He turned his gaze to Hermione. "And what about my favorite bookworm? What have you been up to, 'Mione? I'll bet it's something amazing."

"Oh, stop," Hermione said, her turn now to blush. "I wouldn't call it 'amazing' or anything…"

"Hermione, you're revolutionizing the school curriculum!" Harry said. "Of course it's amazing!"

"Revolutionizing the school curriculum?" Ron repeated. "Merlin, Hermione, tell me!"

"I'm working to fix the serious gaps in Hogwarts' cultural education," Hermione explained, her cheeks still pink. "You remember that I took Muggle Studies in third year? The class was utterly useless – anyone relying solely on that class would never be able to survive in the Muggle world – and there's a similar deficit in education on Wizarding customs as well. I'm hoping to create a mandatory class that ultimately allows for ease of living in _either_ world, so that those who come from Muggle homes aren't at a serious disadvantage from the start, and so that those from Wizarding backgrounds can better understand where their classmates come from. Hopefully, students will see the value in both and won't be so inclined to be prejudiced against what they don't understand."

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said in awe. "You never did do things halfway, did you? What inspired this?"

"My own experiences," Hermione admitted. "Aside from what I learned when Professor McGonagall came to explain Hogwarts to my parents and from reading _Hogwarts, A History,_ I was at a total loss when I first entered the Wizarding world. I didn't understand Galleons or Quaffles, I didn't know that unicorns and trolls were real, that portraits could talk and brooms could fly – I had so much catching up to do, and that was on top of schoolwork and attempting to make friends – and you know how well the latter went for me. Maybe I still would've had trouble with the making friends bit, but things would have been so much easier overall if I'd had more help before I'd arrived at school."

"Makes sense," Ron said with a nod. "There are still so many things about Muggles I don't get at all, and Celia's been a saint answering all my questions, but I wish there was a better way for me to know that stuff. I know she won't hesitate to help me, but I feel so stupid asking sometimes."

"Exactly. So I'm developing lessons on various aspects of Muggle culture – currency, clothing, holidays, transportation – testing their efficiency, and designing the curriculum around them. Once I have a more thorough outline, I can think about putting together a presentation for the Board of Governors."

"That's great, 'Mione," Ron said. "Sounds like you've got a solid plan, as usual." He paused as he thought over what she'd said. "Hang on…you said you're testing your lessons? How? You can't exactly test them on yourself."

"I'm not – Draco's been helping me, actually."

"Draco…not Draco _Malfoy?"_

"The very same." There was a lengthy pause.

"'Mione…are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"What do you mean, Ron?"

"It's _Malfoy,_ Hermione! Have you forgotten how much of an arse he was to you at Hogwarts?" Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Ron…" Harry warned, but Hermione cut him off.

"No, Harry, it's alright – I expected nothing less." She returned her attention to Ron. "Ron, you know perfectly well that I haven't forgotten what happened at school, so please don't insult my mental capacity by suggesting otherwise." Ron had the decency to blush.

"You also know better than most that the war changed a lot of us, and changed a lot _for_ us – your move to the States is a prime example. You were gone shortly after the Malfoys' trial, so I don't expect you to understand, but Draco's changed just as much as any of us – he was in the thick of things just as much as we were, and he had just as much to answer for after the war, perhaps even more because of his family's allegiance. He's done his best to change all that, to become more than the person he was at Hogwarts – he's been regularly coming to talk to me for ages now, and it was his idea to be the test subject for my project. He _volunteered_ to do it, because he genuinely _wants_ to know how to function in Muggle society. I won't explain his reasons, as those are his own, but if you still can't trust him, at least trust _me."_ Of course, Hermione had explained Draco's reasons to Harry and Ginny, but that was different – explaining them to Ron wasn't necessary to prove her point, and as she'd pointed out, Ron didn't know Draco like the rest of them did and therefore would have a much harder time believing that Draco's goals were genuine. Ron thought over Hermione's words for a long moment, then sighed and nodded.

"You're right, as usual," he said. "I sure as hell don't trust Malfoy, but as much as it pains me to admit it, I don't know him, and obviously a lot's changed since I left. I'll believe the change when I see it, but I do trust you, Hermione – you know I do."

"And that's more than enough for now," Hermione said quietly. "Thank you for understanding, Ron, really – I know it's not easy when you two have been at odds for so long, but I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't truly believe he'd changed."

"And I have every confidence that your project will be a smashing success," Ron said. "With you at the helm, you're bound to succeed – and Wizarding Britain will be all the richer for it."

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself," Hermione warned, though she was smiling. "I still have a long way to go."

"Still – you'll be great, I know it."

"Thanks, Ron."

The conversation then shifted to talk of Ron's life in America, and Hermione couldn't help but smile again as he told them of all the exciting things he'd seen and done. She missed her friend greatly, but this experience was just what he needed, and she was proud of him. He'd taken that leap at great personal risk, but as evidenced by the conversation they'd just had, he'd also done a lot of growing up. He might not trust Draco, but he trusted her with a project _involving_ Draco, something he never would've done just a few short years ago. Yes, Ron Weasley had grown up a lot, and Hermione was glad to call him her friend.

* * *

 **A/N: And so we've had a trio reunion, yay! Hope you liked. I don't think it's too far-fetched to say that they all grew up quite a bit after the war, so hopefully you agree w/ my take on Ron's reaction. Back to Draco next chapter.**

 **Thank you for your kind words, & of course for reading my story!**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	12. Remember, Remember the Fifth of November

The week between Halloween and Guy Fawkes Day passed in much the same manner as the previous days since the ill-fated shopping trip – in silence. Hermione, keeping Harry's advice in mind, changed course and resumed designing lessons with Draco in mind as opposed to hypothetical students, but she still didn't seek out the blond, nor did he come to her. A part of her wondered if he thought their lessons were over for good, but she suspected that wasn't the case – if Draco really had no desire to continue his Muggle education, Hermione hoped he would've at least had the courtesy to let her know. No, until she heard otherwise, she would carry on as normal, but she still held true to what she told Harry – if their interactions were to resume, Draco would have to approach her first.

On the afternoon of the fifth, Hermione left work, headed to her flat, and promptly ensconced herself in the kitchen. The plan was to meet at Grimmauld Place for dinner before heading to the evening's celebrations in the park closest to the Potters' home. Hermione was in charge of bringing dessert, and so for the next hour or so she busied herself making a tasty array of biscuits, absentmindedly humming along with the radio as she measured, mixed, and stirred. In spite of her parents both being dentists, Hermione's father had quite the sweet tooth, and he'd ensured from a young age that his daughter had the skills necessary to recreate his many favorites. The whole flat soon smelled like a bakery, and Hermione didn't mind in the slightest – it was a smell that reminded her of home.

When the last batch of cookies had finally made it into the oven, Hermione took the opportunity to change into comfortable but warm clothes. She and her friends usually stayed at the bonfire for several hours, and the park got cold very quickly once the sun had gone down. Satisfied that she would be comfortable throughout the evening, Hermione returned to the kitchen just as the oven timer went off. A quick cooling charm on the last batch had them ready for plating, and she packaged up all the cookies into a handy travel container. After one last check to make sure she had everything, Hermione locked up her flat and Disapparated.

"Hey, Hermione!" Harry greeted her when he opened the door to let her in. "Good to see you!"

"Harry, you act like you didn't know I was coming," Hermione said with a laugh. "It's not like we haven't done this every year since school ended…"  
"Spoil my fun, why don't you." Harry gave a highly exaggerated fake pout, and Hermione burst out laughing.

"You know I love spending time with you," she said as she embraced her friend. "Now, let's get inside before your wife's Weasley side comes out and we find our dinner's disappeared."

"It's a very real possibility," Harry chuckled. "The kitchen smells incredible – but I'm sure she saved room knowing you were bringing biscuits." Hermione laughed again. She knew perfectly well why she was usually the one assigned to dessert – if there was anyone who could rival her father for craving Granger cookies, it was Ginny.

Dinner was as lively as ever, made even more so by the presence of some of their old Hogwarts friends. Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Susan Bones, George Weasley, and Angelina Johnson had all stopped by. Neville Longbottom, who'd also been invited, was unfortunately too busy with his apprenticeship under Professor Sprout to attend, but he'd promised to visit sometime over the school holidays to make up for it. The group relished in the chance to catch up and enjoy what had turned into a mini-DA reunion as they ate their way through the many delicious offerings, including most of Hermione's cookies.

After dinner, George and Angelina bid the rest of the group farewell and headed off to meet up with other friends, and the remaining young adults followed Harry out into the night. There were too many of them to Apparate into the park without risking detection, and so they'd decided to walk. Their destination wasn't far from Grimmauld Place, after all, and they passed the time talking excitedly about the evening ahead and how it might compare to years past.

The park was already filling up when they arrived, and the beginnings of what promised to be a very impressive bonfire crackled in a pit, bright orange sparks popping and dancing up into the inky blackness above. Knowing that they'd soon be far too hot if they sat too close to the fire, Harry led the group to an empty expanse of grass underneath a large tree, and they began to spread out the picnic blankets they'd brought along. Ginny had a small hamper of snacks – crackers, cheese, and other munchies – to keep them satisfied as the night wore on, and their spot was perfect for staying out of the way while still being able to see everything. Seamus revealed a hip flask with a wink, and conversation continued to flow easily as the friends enjoyed a rare evening together.

A little over an hour after they'd arrived, Hermione began to get the feeling she was being watched. She surreptitiously glanced around, but her friends were all deep in conversation with one another, and everyone else in the park seemed too absorbed in their own groups to be paying her any attention. The bonfire was now roaring away, but even in the light offered by its flames, Hermione couldn't seem to find anyone even remotely looking her way. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling, and her instincts from the war kept her on her guard, continuing to scan the crowd. In spite of her suspicions, however, she still jumped a mile when she heard the voice.

"Miss Hermione!"

"You alright, Hermione?" Harry asked her, having noticed her flinch.

"Yeah…I'm fine. Just thought I heard something, is all." The voice had been little more than a murmur – perhaps she'd heard it wrong? Perhaps it hadn't been a voice at all, but merely a whisper of the wind?

"Miss Hermione!" the voice came again.

There was no mistaking it. The second time had been no louder than the first, but whoever it was, was definitely calling for her. Hermione looked around again and finally saw, behind the tree under which they sat, two large, bright eyes peering at her from the dark. Scrambling to her feet, she hurried over as quickly as she could without alerting her friends, and even though she had a guess as to the speaker's identity, she was still surprised when it was confirmed.

"Posey?" Hermione asked in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"Posey has been looking everywhere for Miss Hermione." Hermione noticed the little elf was trembling and wished there was something she could do to make her more comfortable – she distinctly remembered Draco telling her that Posey was scared of people she didn't know, and the park was crowded.

"You've been looking for me?" Hermione asked, hoping to finish the conversation quickly so she could send Posey home. "Is something wrong?" Posey nodded, and even in the much dimmer light behind the tree, Hermione could see that her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

"Posey isn't knowing what to do," she said, twisting the skirt of her tunic in between her long fingers. "Posey is knowing that Miss Hermione is upset with Master Draco, but Master Draco is needing help, and Posey is being so lost…"

"Draco?" Hermione asked sharply. "What's wrong with Draco?" Posey shook her head.

"Posey is not knowing," she said again. "Posey knows Master Draco is having bad memories of the war, but Master Draco is never speaking to Posey about them." Two large tears slipped from her eyes and glided down her cheeks. "Please, Miss Hermione – will you help him?"

Hermione didn't know what to do. She was still very upset with Draco for how he'd acted after the shopping trip, but Posey was so distressed, and she'd specifically sought Hermione out thinking she might be able to make things better. Hermione didn't quite know why Posey had come to her instead of one of Draco's Slytherin friends – she knew for a fact that his friend group was just as close with each other as she was with Harry and Ginny – but she supposed the little elf must have her reasons. It was Posey's distress that finally brought Hermione to make a decision.

"Alright, Posey, I'll come," she said. She extracted a handkerchief from her coat pocket and added, "Please don't cry. Let me tell my friends that I'm leaving so they don't wonder where I am, and then we can go." Posey accepted the handkerchief with a sniffle.

"Miss Hermione is too good," she said softly. "Master Draco was wrong to be so mean to Miss Hermione." Hermione gave her a small smile.

"It's alright, Posey," she reassured her. Making sure the elf was alright, Hermione hurried back to her friends and quietly explained to Harry that something had come up and she was needed elsewhere. She didn't name names and was grateful when Harry accepted the situation without further questions. Hermione bid her friends goodnight, made sure she had all of her things, and went back to Posey. The two clasped hands and Disapparated with a small 'pop'.

They landed in Star Cottage's front entryway, Hermione noting with interest that she'd entered the house with ease – unbeknownst to her, Draco must've keyed her into his wards. The thought made her feel both good about having earned his trust and bad that they were still fighting. She didn't dwell on it, however, as Posey was still looking upset, and she quickly hung her coat on a peg in the hall. She then noticed the shadows dancing on the walls, shadows that looked very familiar, and was immediately intrigued. Draco had a fire going? That was odd. His fireplace was always dark, and Hermione had never even seen so much as a candle in this place before… She cautiously made her way into the living room. There was indeed a fire crackling merrily in the grate, and Draco himself was sitting on the sofa.

"Draco?" Hermione half expected him to jump in surprise, but the blond didn't even acknowledge her presence.

"Draco, it's Hermione…"

Still no response. Frowning deeply now, Hermione slowly moved across the room until she stood next to the coffee table, and she forced herself to choke back a shocked gasp when she realized why Draco hadn't said anything.

Draco was indeed sitting on the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs and his chin resting on his knees. He was still as a statue, his eyes fixed on the flames, and while Hermione couldn't pinpoint the exact word to describe his expression, it had her worried. He looked like a cornered animal about to bolt. His eyes were rimmed with red and he seemed to be clenching his jaw, and on the coffee table rested a tumbler next to a half-empty bottle of what Hermione guessed was Firewhiskey. Not enough liquid was missing for Draco to be completely plastered, but Hermione suspected he was at least a little drunk.

"Draco, what's wrong?" Hermione was seriously concerned now, and when Draco remained silent, she determined to piece the clues together herself. She was sure the solution was staring her in the face…

The fire popped again.

 _The fire…_

Oh… _oh._

How did she not see it before? The evidence was all there – Draco's visible shudder when he mentioned just how he'd destroyed Malfoy Manor, his perpetually dark fireplace, his sudden coldness when she'd mentioned Bonfire Night…

Draco Malfoy was afraid of fire. Absolutely terrified, if she had to hazard a guess. Hermione swiftly doused the fire with a wave of her wand, leaving only softly glowing embers to illuminate the now-dark room.

"I can't get the screaming out of my head."

Hermione jumped in fright, narrowly missing clipping her shin on the coffee table's edge – she hadn't been expecting Draco to speak. His voice was completely clear, no slurring evident – it seemed her suspicions about the alcohol had been correct.

"There was so much smoke, so much heat." He was still staring fixedly at the fireplace. "And Greg was unconscious…thought we were…"

Hermione now understood why Posey was so upset, as she herself was fighting back tears. She, too, remembered their panicked flight from the Room of Requirement in vivid detail, but it had never occurred to her how the others might've been affected by it. Vincent Crabbe had died at the hands of his own curse, and while it was easy for Hermione to forget that casualty, having interacted with Crabbe very little over the course of her Hogwarts career, the larger boy had been Draco's housemate, his roommate, and – to some extent, at least – his friend. Six students had gone into that room, but only five had come out – and given what they'd gone through _to_ get out, it was all too easy to imagine how terrible Crabbe's final moments must have been. And Draco…Draco had been with Harry, hadn't he? And Harry had actually flown back into the melee to grab the diadem…they'd been the last ones to leave…

"Oh, Draco." Forgetting all about their argument – it seemed so unimportant now – Hermione quickly crossed to the sofa and sat beside Draco, wrapping her arms around him. She half expected him to push her away, to shun the unexpected contact, but he stiffened for only a moment before he collapsed against her, shaking like mad, and it was only when she felt a wet spot on her shoulder that Hermione realized she wasn't the only one crying.

Sweet Merlin…how long had Draco been holding this in? How long had he been masking this very real fear?

For several long minutes, neither said anything, Hermione merely holding Draco close while he let it all out. His sobs gradually reduced until they were just little sniffles, and finally, he spoke.

"Vince was never the brightest star in the sky," he said. "Neither was Greg – hell, the two of them had to repeat fifth year because they failed all their O. ." He stopped and sniffed again. "But they flourished – _flourished_ under the Carrows; nobody took to torture like those two, and they were finally getting top marks in something…which wasn't a good thing. The things they did…" He shuddered violently, shaking Hermione's frame as well as his own.

"I was never particularly nice to them – I ordered them around because it was easy, and they followed me because of my name. And Vince especially was royally pissed off at me by that point – I think he knew that I wasn't nearly as into all the Death Eater stuff as I was, and yet I was the one who got the Mark and the mission from V-Voldemort. But…" Draco suddenly stopped speaking, seemingly at a loss for how to continue.

"But in spite of that, he was your friend," Hermione said softly. "I'm sorry, Draco. It never occurred to me that that incident might've scarred some people far worse than it did me."

"I just…the screaming…I honestly thought even Potter wouldn't be able to find a way out of that one…"

"What happened to Goyle…Greg?" Hermione asked. "I don't think I've ever heard you mention him…"

"Nobody knows. He did some time in Azkaban – sixth months, maybe a year; I don't remember – and then he disappeared after that. Some people say he went to the Continent, some say to America, and someone said he'd gone all the way to Russia, but nobody knows for sure. He hasn't been in touch. Don't blame him, really – he was always even more of a follower than Vince, looked to Vince when our group started falling apart. I don't think he knew what to do when he realized Vince was gone."

"That's…really sad." Hermione never thought she'd be feeling sorry for Gregory Goyle, but in this moment, she definitely was.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"What?" Hermione was glad Draco was still staring at the fire, because she was sure her jaw was on the floor. Not only had he apologized, but he'd used her given name.

"I'm sorry, about the shopping trip," Draco explained. "I was a right arse to you for no reason, and you were only trying to do what I'd asked you to…"

"Draco, stop it," Hermione said sternly, dropping her comforting tone at once. "How could I fault you for something like this when I have the same problems?"

"What could you possibly be afraid of, Granger? You're a Gryffindor, brave and courageous as they come."

"Just because I'm brave doesn't mean I can't be afraid," Hermione replied, her voice soft once more. "I lost track of how many times I was scared to death that year, and there are plenty of things I still can't shake." She took a deep breath. "My flat is still warded tighter than most Gringotts vaults, I never go anywhere without my wand, I couldn't sleep alone for the entire summer following the final battle…and I may or may not have killed someone."

"What?"

"I may or may not have killed someone," Hermione repeated, struggling to keep her composure. "I…we got caught up in a duel with a whole group of Death Eaters on the main staircase, and I hit one with a Repelling Charm so forcefully that he crashed right through the banister and out of sight. A little while later, I saw his body lying on the ground floor, and he was clearly dead. I never knew if it was my spell that did it, but he _was_ almost directly under the spot where I'd hit him…" She choked back a sob as her tears began to fall. "He wasn't one of the inner circle or anything – I didn't recognize him – and he seemed so young, just a few years older than we were, and…" She gasped again, knowing she was precariously close to a breakdown. "My worst fear is that I'll find out I _was_ responsible – and how could I live with that?" Unable to contain herself any longer, Hermione burst into tears, burying her face in her hands as she cried. Unlike Draco, she'd told someone this story before – Harry, naturally – but whereas telling someone usually helped, it hadn't this time. Hermione still carried that guilt with her, and she suspected she always would. Just thinking about the incident caused an almost physical pain, but she'd had to tell Draco, had to make him see that he wasn't alone. She only hoped she'd never cross paths with a boggart again – she knew what she would see, and it certainly wasn't Professor McGonagall calling her a failure.

Draco didn't quite know what to do. His fear seemed almost paltry compared to Hermione's, and he couldn't even say he understood the feeling – he'd never killed anyone outright, having barely been able to stomach torture, and he couldn't recall a scenario in which he could've _potentially_ killed someone, either. But Hermione had been there for him when he'd broken down, and he'd feel like an unfeeling jerk if he didn't reciprocate. He felt weird hugging her full out – he was still working on those types of things with his closest friends – but he still knew how to offer comfort, and so he tentatively rubbed Hermione's back while fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket.

"Granger…you have to believe the best of yourself," he said once her sobs had quieted a bit. "You have to – it's the only way forward. You didn't kill anyone in cold blood, you didn't aim to kill – and that, I think, makes a world of difference."

"But what if?" Hermione moaned. "What if I was the one who killed him?"

"I don't know what to tell you, Granger," Draco said with a sigh. "I'm sorry." Hermione sniffed loudly and blew her nose.

"We're all sorts of messed up, aren't we?" she muttered, staring fixedly at the handkerchief clutched tightly between her fingers.

"That we are," Draco agreed. "How…" He sighed again, and this time he sounded as defeated as Hermione felt. "How do you explain to someone who didn't experience it just how much you've been through?" That was the million-Galleon question, wasn't it – they could do as many of these Muggle lessons as they liked, Draco could become a better Muggle than the Muggles themselves…but would a Muggle spouse ever be able to understand?

"I don't know," Hermione whispered. "We're so…broken. If we can't find someone to heal us…" She sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry – I came over here hoping to make you feel better, not to be all morose." She glanced at her watch. "It's so late – I should probably be getting home." She made to stand but stopped when she felt a hand grasp her wrist.

"Granger, stay."

Once again, Hermione was shocked speechless. Had Draco really just asked her to stay?

"Please, Granger. I…I don't think I can be alone right now." He winced a little, as if it had pained him to admit to such raw vulnerability, and Hermione suspected he never would've said so if he weren't tipsy.

"I don't want to be, either," she admitted, and she sank back down to sit beside him once more. Neither said anything more, just stared at the last dying embers in silence, their hands clasped as if they'd never let go. It was a very long time indeed before either managed to fall asleep.

* * *

 **A/N: And now we know. (Good job, Phnxgirl - & I didn't even keep you waiting this time ;) ) They're in for an interesting conversation when they wake up, aren't they... Also, hopefully I did alright with the Bonfire Night description - I've never been to one before, so my sincerest apologies if I messed anything up.**

 **Thank you all for giving this story some love - your support is wonderful & greatly appreciated.**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	13. The Morning After and its Aftermath

Hermione woke slowly the next morning, blinking her eyes as they struggled to adjust to the bright light. She frowned a little as she tried to stretch and found she couldn't, and then she abruptly froze when she realized just _what_ was keeping her from doing so. The events of the night before came flooding back – Bonfire Night with her friends, Posey's unexpected arrival, her talk with Draco, and…oh, Godric, Salazar, and Rowena. He'd asked her to stay…they'd fallen asleep on the couch, hadn't they? She couldn't move because she was still on Draco's couch with _Draco's arm draped over her waist…_

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up." Hermione groaned.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked, not sure if she really wanted to know the answer. Behind her, she felt Draco shrug.

"Awake? Half an hour, at most. Coherent? That's another story. I have a wicked headache." Hermione nodded – the half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey was still sitting on the coffee table.

"How did you know I was awake?" she asked next.

"Granger, you're stiff as a board…"

"Oh…right." People didn't normally sleep like that. Hermione couldn't relax, though. How Draco was acting like this was just another normal occurrence was a mystery. It probably had to do with that whole 'Slytherins-keep-their-emotions-in-check' thing.

"What do Muggles do for hangovers, Granger?" In spite of the awkward situation, Hermione chuckled.

"Aspirin and water," she told him, "but it doesn't kick in right away like a hangover tonic would. You had a rough enough night without the headache; if you want to take the tonic, please do." There was a moment's pause – Hermione suspected Draco was mulling over her suggestion – and then Draco finally pushed himself up off the couch and headed for the kitchen. Since he hadn't asked her for aspirin (or even asked her what it was), she assumed he was taking her advice, and indeed, as she sat up he came back with a small bottle filled with bright blue liquid. Draco popped off the lid and took a sip, his expression relaxing noticeably as the tonic took effect, then offered the vial to Hermione.

"Need any?" Hermione shook her head.

"No, thank you – I only really drank with dinner last night; it was worn off by the time I came here." She inwardly cringed. Damn it – she hadn't meant to bring up the elephant in the room already…

"About that…" Draco began, but Hermione cut him off.

"It's fine, Draco, really. You don't need to apologize or anything."

"I wasn't going to – I was going to thank you, actually." Well, that threw Hermione for a loop.

"You…oh," she said quietly.

"Yeah." Draco sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking awkward. "Listen, Granger. I…" He cleared his throat and spoke more clearly, more firmly. "I really did mean what I said last night – and just because I'd had a bit to drink doesn't mean I don't remember what I said. I'm sorry about being a jerk to you after the shopping trip, and-"

"Draco, stop," Hermione cut him off. "If you remember what you said, then you should also remember I told you that you needn't apologize – I didn't know about your fears, I had no reason to, and you reacted instinctually. I probably would've done something similar if I'd been in that sort of situation."

"I was still rude," Draco insisted. "But regardless, my thanks are sincere. I…I'd never told anyone what I told you last night. I never really had any intention to, but I guess Posey had other plans."

"She was worried about you," Hermione said softly. "She was almost in tears when she found me last night – she only did it because she cares."

"I know she does." Draco paused. "And while I had no intention of saying anything, I can't say I regret it. It actually felt rather…"

"Good?" Hermione suggested, a small smile gracing her features. Even though speaking of her own predicament didn't necessarily assuage the guilt, she'd still felt better when she'd told Harry, and again last night after talking to Draco. The guilt was still there, but it felt much better knowing she wasn't alone.

"Yeah – cathartic, in a way. I…thank you, Granger, really."

"In that case, you're welcome." Hermione paused. "About what you said – about people not understanding. I really don't know what to say to that, to be honest. We've both been through so many things that even most of our fellow wizards can't understand. And I suppose that's what makes it really difficult, because we have to be able to put our trust in our partners, and trusting new people like that is so hard. The right person will be the one you can trust with not only the secret that you're a wizard, but also with the knowledge that you've gone through some horrible things and have been greatly affected as a result. That person will be the one who accepts you for everything you are – 'warts and all', as my dad would tell me."

"Warts?" Draco questioned.

"It's an expression. Your warts are your flaws, and the people you want in your life are those who accept everything about you, including those flaws. People like that aren't easy to find, but when you do, it's well worth it."

"Yeah, it is." Draco thought of his little friend group – Theo, Adrian and Daphne, Astoria. He thanked his good fortune every day that he had them in his life. Could he possibly be so lucky as to love someone like them?

"But my friends know and understand my past, because they were a part of it," he continued. "How do you explain that to someone who didn't live it? You went to Muggle university, Granger – how did you explain things to your friends there?"

"Well, there's only so much I could say, thanks to the Statute of Secrecy," Hermione said. "I got special permission from the Ministry to use Silencing Charms on my rooms at school, and then at my flat afterwards – normally, we're not supposed to use magic around Muggles, but putting up the charms is better than having to come up with an explanation for my nightmares. I don't scream much anymore, but the worst ones still have me thrashing around and talking in my sleep." Draco nodded in understanding. Nightmares plagued all of the survivors, and Hermione's would be worse than most.

"As for school itself, I can tell people I went to a boarding school in Scotland for seven years, and the Ministry can convert your N.E.W.T. marks into comparable A-levels. It's hard not being able to say much more than that, but you manage. Besides, it's nice to have that clean slate and be able to have people know you as just another person instead of a war veteran." Draco nodded again, thinking immediately of the café owner in town, the man who'd asked him what he wanted without a sneer in sight.

"Of course, you'll still have to expect your life story to end up in the papers," Hermione went on with a disdainful little sniff. With the endless amount of ridiculous headlines in circulation pertaining to her and her friends, Draco didn't need to ask why she'd scoffed. "No matter what you do in the Muggle world, you're a top name in the Wizarding world whether you want to be or not – you just have to decide what you're going to do about it."

"Fair enough. You arranged some sort of contract, didn't you?"

"I did. The only reporters who are allowed to interview me are Luna Lovegood, Padma Patil, and Rita Skeeter – no Quick-Quotes quills or recording devices, and I get to read everything before it goes to print."

"Rita Skeeter?" Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Like you weren't feeding her everything you could get on us in fourth year," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "It's a long story and not really an important one, but it's much better to have Rita on your side than not."

"That I'll agree with." Yes, Draco had – gleefully, he was now ashamed to admit – fed Skeeter all sorts of information on Potter and his friends, and he knew from the aftermath that the woman could be downright vicious on a good day. Hermione's choice suddenly didn't seem so odd after all.

"So…what do we do now?" Draco asked after a moment. "Now that we've spilled all our deepest, darkest secrets, I mean." Hermione looked at him.

"Well…do you still want to continue with your lessons?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," Draco said at once. "I know you won't accept it, Granger, but I'm still sorry, and I do want to keep going if that's alright with you. I want to do this."

"I still say you were only acting on instinct, but if it means that much to you, I accept your apology," Hermione said. "And I'm glad you want to keep going – planning this whole thing from scratch is much easier when you have someone to plan it for. Besides" – she paused and grinned cheekily – "you still owe me for that new wardrobe of yours."

"That I do," Draco said, laughing a little himself. "But rest assured I would've paid you back even if I'd discontinued the lessons."

"But you haven't, so we don't even have to think about that," Hermione said. "So, a trip to the bank is in order, and then what?" Her expression turned thoughtful. "You know, a couple of my friends and I are going to the British Museum two weekends from now – I'll understand if you're not ready to spend lots of time around Muggles, but if you'd like to come, you're welcome to."

"The British Museum?" Draco asked.

"Yes, it's in London – my roommate has a rare day off and wants to go, and…" She trailed off, seeing the quizzical expression on Draco's face. "Erm…this may seem like an odd question, but do you know what a museum is?"

"Vaguely," Draco answered. "I understand the concept, but I've never been to one."

"You've never…" Hermione's eyes were wide. "Oh, there are _so_ many wonderful museums, Draco! And the British Museum's collection is especially impressive – over a million items, I believe, although of course they're not all on display." She paused again. "Are there any museums in the Wizarding world? I don't know that I've heard of any."

"A few," Draco replied. "The one I know best is the Museum of Quidditch, which is in London also – I always wanted to go when I was younger, but I never did."

"Why not?" Hermione questioned. "You loved Quidditch at school."

"Lucius thought such things as museums beneath him – crowded and full of common folk." Draco made a disgusted face. "Mother only did things against his wishes in private – and even if she had taken me, I never would've been able to keep my mouth shut about something involving Quidditch."

"Well, then, we'll just have to visit that museum too," Hermione said firmly.

"But that's not a Muggle thing," Draco protested.

"And? In case you've forgotten, my course is going to cover both cultures," Hermione reminded him. "I need my education too." It was a bit of a rubbish response and they both knew it – Hermione knew plenty about Quidditch thanks to her friends' enthusiasm for the sport. Draco suspected Hermione was volunteering to go just because it was something he wanted to do, because she was just that type of person – the thought made him feel strangely happy.

"Alright, then," he conceded, trying his best not to sound too excited. "But tell me more about this British Museum."

"Oh, it's wonderful," Hermione said. "I haven't been in a few years, but I've been a number of times with my mum and dad – the place is so big that you can't possibly see everything at once. They have exhibits from all around the world – Britain, to be sure, but also Asia, the Americas, Egypt, Greece…something for everyone, really."

"And you're going with friends?" Draco asked.

"Yes – my roommate Heather, and our friends Cat and Dave. There are two other people who usually hang out with us as well, but they're busy that weekend, so it'll just be the four of us."

Draco thought about it. He'd already spent plenty of time in the village, plus he'd survived all day at the shopping center – which, if Hermione was to be believed, was an ordeal worse than most. Three new people might not be so bad.

"Give me a day or two to think about it, but put me down as a tentative yes," he finally said. He felt that little thrill again when Hermione smiled – yes, she was eager to please, but he suspected it was more than that. Hermione was slowly but surely becoming one of those people he could trust, someone like Theo or Astoria, and Draco found he actually quite liked that idea.

"Alright, then," Hermione said. "Possible trip to the British Museum it is. We'll work in a Tube ride, and maybe some fish and chips." Draco laughed at that, remembering how shocked Hermione had been when he'd said he'd never even heard of the dish.

"Alright, Granger," he said, still chuckling a little. "I'll try your fish and chips…but how about some breakfast first, yeah? After all, it'd be rude of me not to feed you after you spent the night on my couch…"

* * *

Ultimately, Draco did decide to accompany Hermione and her friends to the British Museum. He wanted to learn more about the cultural side of things and was curious as to what sort of exhibits the museum would have – while he'd traveled a fair bit as a child, his family had always kept exclusively to Wizarding districts, and so Draco really was just about as in the dark as he could possibly be. A week before the outing, he and Hermione took a trip to Gringotts – the goblins there were well versed in all aspects of banking, and with the help of their human liaisons, Draco soon had his own Muggle bank account, complete with card, which he stowed safely in his new wallet alongside the photo ID Hermione had helped him get. Hermione went over the bank procedures with Draco until he was sure he could withdraw, deposit, and transfer money in his sleep, and of course he finally paid her back for his new clothes. When they left the bank for the first time, Draco stopped to activate his card at the ATM and withdraw a small amount of cash to have on hand, and though he'd never admit it to Hermione aloud, he was quite proud of the colorful notes and what they meant for his changing life.

Draco met Hermione midmorning on the day of their museum trip at the Leaky Cauldron in London. Their plan was to take the Tube to the museum and meet Hermione's friends there. Hermione had suggested that Draco wear comfortable clothes and shoes, and so he'd dressed in jeans and a navy jumper over a white Oxford shirt, with a coat to ward off the November chill. Hermione nodded approvingly at his attire – Draco was satisfied he'd chosen well when he saw that Hermione was also wearing jeans – and the two prepared to leave the pub for Muggle London.

"Ready?" Hermione asked as she made to push open the door.

"As I'll ever be," Draco replied. "Let's go."

Draco didn't know which way to look first. Charing Cross Road was a busy place, filled with all kinds of shops in many sizes and colors, and people hurried past, both in cars and on foot. The Leaky Cauldron sat between a bookshop and some sort of music shop, and Draco noted with interest that the Muggles' eyes glanced over it as if they couldn't see the pub at all. He quickly followed Hermione down the street, taking in as much as he could without gawking, and they soon arrived at the Charing Cross Tube station. Hermione walked him through how to purchase a ticket, and not long after that, they were on the platform and boarding their train.

Their train car was full, but not so much that its occupants didn't have room to move comfortably, and Draco examined the advertisements as the train glided along. Two stops later, he and Hermione disembarked at Tottenham Court Road. From there, it was just a short walk to their destination, but it offered Draco plenty more opportunities to examine the many sights, sounds, and smells around him. He now understood why Hermione had insisted on starting small – though he'd been to Wizarding London plenty of times before, he'd never seen the Muggle side of the city, and it was much, _much_ bigger than he'd ever imagined.

Just like the city it called home, the British Museum itself was big – enormous, in fact. The columned façade stretched impressively in both directions, with wide steps leading up to the entrance, and people milled about in the courtyard. Hermione began scanning the crowd as soon as they were through the gate, and she soon grinned broadly and motioned for Draco to follow her over to a girl at the base of the steps.

"Heather!" Hermione said, giving the girl a hug. "I'm not surprised you're here first."

"Dave and Cat are on their way – Cat, as usual, forgot something and had to go back. I see your friend decided to come?"

"Yes. Heather, this is Draco Malfoy – we went to boarding school together. Draco, Heather Brooks, my roommate and good friend from uni."

"Pleased to meet you," Heather said, offering her hand for Draco to shake. Her voice was strong but quiet, the type to instantly put you at ease.

"Likewise," Draco replied. Heather was almost as tall as he was, with straight brown hair pulled into a neat ponytail, and a slender but athletic build. Draco didn't know anything about Muggle sports yet but suspected Heather did something like that.

"Oh, there they are!" Hermione cried, calling Draco's attention to the two people now hurrying across the courtyard. One was a tall, broad-shouldered young man with glasses that reminded Draco of Theo; the other was a petite, curvy girl with dark wavy hair running halfway down her back.

"Hey, Hermione!" the young man called as he swept her into a fierce hug, lifting Hermione right off her feet. Hermione laughed merrily, her eyes twinkling as she returned the embrace.

"Dave, you're ridiculous!" she said once she was back on solid ground.

"Ah, but you love me for it," he replied cheekily. Hermione shook her head in fond exasperation and introduced Draco to the newcomers – the man was obviously Dave, and the short girl was called Cat.

"It's short for Catherine, but the only person who calls me that is my mother when I'm in trouble," she said mischievously. Draco quickly agreed that the nickname suited her much better – she didn't much look like a Catherine, but she definitely had the spunky personality of a Cat.

"Shall we go in?" Hermione suggested once her friends had stopped talking. They agreed, and the group of five made their way up the steps and into the museum.

The inside of the museum was just as grand as the outside. The main pavilion was a vast open space, with polished floors underfoot and what appeared to be a glass ceiling up above. A wide, sweeping staircase led to the upper floors, and the ground floor galleries beckoned to them from the left and right. Hermione grabbed a map from the information desk, and the group examined it closely before deciding on a course of action and setting off.

They spent several hours wandering through the exhibits, and Draco was hard-pressed to decide what was the most incredible. He nodded appreciatively at the Rosetta Stone – Professor Babbling had mentioned the groundbreaking tablet in Ancient Runes class – and he'd heard of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World as well, as several of them were at least partially constructed by wizards. They saw ancient statues and temples, samurai swords and wedding kimonos, Egyptian sarcophagi and Greek coins, shards of pottery and scrolls of calligraphy, ivory chessmen and gold clocks…it was an endless parade of art, treasures from all corners of the globe and spanning thousands of years of history. If Draco's beliefs about Muggles and their world hadn't already shifted, they would've shattered to pieces that afternoon. How could he even claim their society to be inferior when they were capable of producing such amazing pieces? Perhaps Muggles weren't entirely ignorant of magic after all – they just used it in a different way.

On top of the exhibits, there were Hermione's friends, who'd accepted Draco into their fold and treated him as if he'd been there all along. Draco wasn't quite sure what to make of this – in Slytherin, even acquaintanceships took time to cultivate – but perhaps the difference here was that he didn't have to wonder whether or not the Muggles were trustworthy. For one, except for perhaps Cat, they were about as un-Slytherin-like as it was possible to be, and for another, Draco already trusted Hermione – if her friends were good enough for her, they were good enough for him. And they certainly were – they made him feel welcome, they included him in their jokes and stories, they asked his opinion on the exhibits (including a fiercely amusing debate between Cat and Dave on whether the Easter Island statue or the Parthenon friezes was more impressive). They all had afternoon tea at the museum, still chatting excitedly about everything they'd seen, and they were discussing plans to do something similar in the future. That Draco was invited as well went unspoken but implied, and Draco couldn't deny that it felt good. In fact, once the day was over and he was back home telling Posey all about his favorite exhibits, Draco had to admit to himself that it was the best day he'd had in a very long while, and he was very much looking forward to having many more just like it.

* * *

 **A/N: I'll admit it - when I was in London last year, I definitely looked for a bookstore next to a music shop on Charing Cross Road...there are lots of bookshops on that street though, haha. I'll have to try again next time. Hope you all enjoyed their museum excursion & meeting Hermione's friends! They'll be back again for sure.**

 **Thank you, as always, for your lovely reviews, & for reading/following/favoriting/etc.**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	14. Deck the Halls

"From all over the _world?"_

"I'm telling you, Tori, this place was like nothing I'd ever seen before," Draco insisted. It was a Monday afternoon almost a month after his trip to the British Museum, and Astoria had finally had a free day to meet him for lunch; she was completely enthralled by his descriptions, listening attentively as he told her all about everything he'd seen. "All centuries, all corners of the globe…and all of it absolutely unbelievable."

"Don't you think it's a bit odd that we say 'corners of the globe' when the Earth is round?" Astoria mused. Draco rolled his eyes in as exaggerated a fashion as he could manage.

"Only you would say something like that," he muttered, throwing a chip at her. Completely unfazed, Astoria promptly picked up the chip and ate it.

"So proper, you are," Draco said with a snort.

"Aww, you love me for it," Astoria joked as she chose another chip.

"Well, you've got to be good for something."

This time, it was Astoria throwing the chip.

Their banter continued in this vein for several minutes as the two friends ate their lunches. As Astoria wasn't quite ready to jump headfirst into the Muggle world like Draco had done, they were dining at the Leaky Cauldron – unfortunately, this meant Draco had already seen several flashbulbs go off from the inevitable reporters who would do anything to get some sort of scoop on the high-profile names from the war, himself included. He laughed quietly to himself and shook his head as he imagined what they might be getting out of this one.

"What's so funny?" Astoria asked, cocking her head to one side.

"Imagining tomorrow's headlines." Draco jerked his head towards the corner where another flash had just gone off, this one directed at George Weasley, who was passing through with Angelina Johnson. "Just think of the scandal it'll cause when they print that they've caught members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight throwing food in public."

"Such appalling manners," Astoria mock-gasped, barely able to contain her giggles. "Either that, or we'll be engaged by this time tomorrow."

"Again? How many times have I supposedly proposed to you? Or your already-married sister?" Yes, that latter one had actually been written – according to the reporter, it was quite the dramatic affair. Adrian had nearly choked on his drink, he'd laughed so hard when Daphne had showed him the headline. As for Astoria herself, in another lifetime, Draco might actually have married her – she was smart, funny, beautiful, and her bloodline was almost as pure as his. But that lifetime hadn't happened, and as much as he loved Astoria, Draco couldn't imagine such a thing happening now. They were far too much like siblings, cared for each other on a completely different level than that of a romantic partner…no, the idea was almost as laughable as Draco stealing Daphne from Adrian.

"Oh, six or seven, at least," Astoria said. "You'd think they'd come up with something new." She paused to roll her eyes as the flash went off again. "Anyway, enough about the rubbish our journalists call news – what's next on your agenda with Hermione?"

"Christmas celebrations," Draco replied. Now that it was December, Christmas was just around the corner, and Hermione was adamant that he was going to experience a proper Muggle celebration. Draco was free to do as he pleased on Christmas Day – Hermione told him she certainly wasn't going to bind him to anything on the day itself – but there were plenty of other things to do in the meantime, the first of which was coming up that weekend.

"Sounds like fun," Astoria said sincerely. "I always did love Christmas – it'll be interesting to see what Muggles do differently."

"Granger's assured me I'll be experiencing a lot," Draco replied.

"I think you're really brave to be doing this, you know," Astoria said softly.

"Tori, I'm not brave," Draco said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"But you really are," Astoria insisted. "Not many people would – or could – willingly jump headfirst into a world they know literally nothing about, and yet stay as calm as you, never mind be _excited_ about it. It kind of makes me appreciate what Muggle-borns go through when they first join the Wizarding world. You're taking a huge risk, Draco, but from the looks of it so far, it's paying off. I'm proud of you – we all are." She reached across the table and squeezed his hand; Draco immediately squeezed back.

"Thanks, Tori," he said quietly. "It is hard, you know? Because you're right – I know absolutely nothing of what I'm getting into, but I'm trying. Granger's lessons are really good – she really does want this curriculum change to succeed, and after just a few months, I have to say I agree with her. There's so much outside our own front doors that we don't understand – the museum opened my eyes to how small Wizarding Britain really is – and we can learn so much, can really enhance our lives, if we open ourselves to the idea of cross-cultural communication." Draco paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts. "But even knowing what I know now, I don't think I could do it if you lot weren't supporting me. I don't think I tell you nearly as often as I should how much that means to me."

"Draco, you're sounding like a Hufflepuff – that's my job," Astoria quipped, though her smile was sincere. "And you know that we're here for you – we told you that when you first told us you were starting this little project, and we'll be there for you 'til the end. Some of us do value that Slytherin loyalty, after all." Draco laughed and squeezed her hand again.

"And I'm very glad you do."

* * *

Four days later, phase one of Hermione's Christmas plans for Draco went into action. Draco glanced out his front window – it was too cold to sit out on the porch steps – as he waited for Hermione to come pick him up for their first task of the day: finding a Christmas tree. Hermione had told him to dress warmly and in clothes he might not mind getting dirty, and he hoped his jeans, trainers, and thick jumper fit the bill. Hermione arrived a few minutes later, chattering excitedly, and the two climbed into her car for their trip to the tree farm.

The tree farm was quite large, with rows upon rows of evergreens in all shapes and sizes stretching out through the fields further than Draco could comfortably see. Hermione told Draco on the drive in that she had been coming to this particular farm with her parents since she was a very small child. After making sure she had everything they needed, Hermione set off along the path, Draco following close behind.

"So what exactly are we looking for, Granger?" Draco asked as they walked.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "Surely you had Christmas trees at the manor?"

"We did, but I never helped choose them," Draco told her. "The house-elves were responsible for decorating the manor, and that included finding an acceptable tree."

"How sad," Hermione said, choosing for the moment to ignore the bit about the house-elves in favor of the more pressing matter. "Decorating for Christmas is one of my favorite things about the holiday – it really gets you in the spirit, you know?" She paused and thought for a moment. "Well, if you've never picked out a tree, we'll have to find a really special one – perhaps we'll even come back another day and get one for Star Cottage as well. As for what constitutes the perfect tree, that's really up to you – my family always chose a tree that was as tall as our ceilings would allow, and it had to be fat and fluffy, with no awkward gaps or holes. I'd like to find something like that today as well." Draco nodded in understanding, and they left the path to wander through the rows of trees, hoping to find that elusive perfect specimen.

"Are you sure Heather's alright with us picking out a tree without her?" Draco asked as they walked.

"Believe me, I asked her the same question about a thousand times," Hermione replied. "She's so busy these next two weekends though, what with the show and all, that she just doesn't have time, and the party is only a few days after that." Heather, as is transpired, was a dance teacher, and Hermione had told Draco all about _The Nutcracker,_ which was apparently a very popular Christmas story that nearly every studio put on, Heather's included. Their production was set to open that evening, which meant Heather was already at the performance space and making sure everything was ready to go. "Our Christmas tree criteria lists are very similar – we lived together at university as well, you know, so we've gotten trees together before – so she trusts me to pick one we'll both like. All she asks is that we leave a little space for her to add her ornaments later."

Finding the perfect Christmas tree took a surprisingly short amount of time – it was actually the first one they found, although they looked at several others before deciding to stick with their first choice. They cut it down using a little saw Hermione had brought before bringing it back to the farm's entrance to be bound. The workers helped Hermione tie the tree to her roof rack, and after wishing them a very happy holiday, Hermione and Draco headed for Hermione's flat.

For all the time he'd spent with her recently, Draco had yet to see Hermione's home. It was a cozy, welcoming space, and Hermione had already set several cardboard boxes, all labeled 'Christmas' in her neat script, next to the sofa. Other boxes, these labeled 'tree', sat on the coffee table.

"I suppose we can cheat a little with setting up the tree, since Heather's out," Hermione said.

"I thought these lessons were all about the Muggle way," Draco replied, flashing Hermione a teasing grin.

"Trust me, you wouldn't complain if you knew how much of a pain this part can be," Hermione said. "If you really want to know, I can explain how it's done. Besides, we have plenty of other more fun things we can do, and we'll be able to do more of them if we get the tree set up quickly." Unable to argue with Hermione's logic – she knew far more than Draco did about this whole business, after all – Draco conceded, and the tree was soon situated in its stand, multicolored lights circling its branches and twinkling lightly as they awaited the ornaments and garland.

"And now comes the fun part," Hermione said, her eyes twinkling just as much as the lights. Without delay, she opened the first box on the coffee table.

Decorating the flat was a lot more work than Draco was anticipating, but it was also a highly rewarding experience. Hermione's face positively lit up every time she pulled something new from the boxes, and she told him countless stories of Christmases past as she carefully hung each ornament or decoration. They draped festive green garland adorned with red velvet bows along the mantle and the stair railing, they placed snowmen and reindeer on the bookshelves, they swapped out all of the kitchen and bathroom towels for holiday models, and, of course, they decorated the Christmas tree. The tree fascinated Draco the most, he thought. It was so very different from his own childhood trees, which were always immaculately trimmed in priceless creations of gold, silver, and crystal, and which Draco himself was always warned not to touch lest he break something. This tree, however, wasn't a perfect work of art – the ornaments were a complete mishmash of objects, some store-bought and others homemade. Some were large and others were small, and they represented a wide variety of shapes and materials. Some were clearly expensive, like the delicate crystal swan engraved with Hermione's name and birthdate. Others, by contrast, appeared to be homemade – one ornament featured lots of glitter and what seemed to be several dozen pieces of colored macaroni surrounding a photo of a young Hermione, her wide smile showing off her prominent front teeth. There was a miniature castle and a carved lion with a red ribbon around its neck – tributes to Hogwarts and Gryffindor House, no doubt – and there were representations of the Eiffel Tower and the Sydney Opera House. And yet despite the lack of coherency, this tree was special, because it had meaning. Hermione had happy memories associated with every single one of these ornaments, and those memories meant far more than the impersonal masterpieces Draco had grown up with.

Equally as fascinating as the Christmas tree was Hermione herself. She'd put on an old record of Christmas carols for them to listen to while they worked, and it wasn't long before she was humming along to the familiar tunes. She was no superstar, but her voice was surprisingly pretty, and Draco couldn't help the fond look that crossed his features whenever she wasn't looking. She was just so into this whole Christmas business, dancing around the flat as she placed this ornament or that decoration, dressed in an oversized blue sweater and black leggings with a pair of fuzzy pink socks on her feet, her crazy curls threatening to break loose from her braid at any moment. The picture was far from the bookish nerd Draco had known at Hogwarts, and he couldn't help but think that this side of her was rather adorable. Aside from the mountain of presents he always received, Draco had never before thought of Christmas as particularly special – given how this day was going, however, he suspected that view was about to change.

Partway through their decorating, something huge and orange came sauntering down the steps, surveying the scene with a confused look in its large yellow eyes. It blinked and stretched luxuriously, and Draco could see then that it was some sort of cat, although its squashed face and bottlebrush tail made it look very different from any cat he'd ever seen before.

"Crooks, my love!" Hermione said, hurrying over to the creature and scooping it into her arms. "Did I wake you?" She nuzzled the cat's nose with her own, then promptly turned pink when she remembered she wasn't alone. Slowly, her arms still clamped firmly around the cat's middle, she turned to Draco.

"Erm…I suppose it's my turn to introduce the members of my household," she said, recalling Draco's words when he'd introduced her to Posey. "Draco, this is Crookshanks – I've had him since third year."

"So he's yours, eh?" Draco said, stepping a little closer to better study the cat. When Hermione gave him a questioning look, he added, "We – my fellow Slytherins and I – used to see him wandering the grounds at school, and we always wondered who he belonged to." He paused and thought for a moment. "What…he's not really just a cat, is he?" Hermione chuckled and shook her head.

"No – the woman at the Magical Menagerie didn't know his full pedigree for sure, but he's at least part Kneazle, and he's proven time and time again that he more than lives up to that side of his lineage." Crookshanks purred and rubbed his head against Hermione's chin, seemingly understanding that his mistress was complimenting him. Draco could see why – Kneazles, he knew, were extremely intelligent creatures, so it wouldn't be surprising if Crookshanks _did_ understand Hermione's words.

"Would you like to pet him?" Hermione asked then.

"Erm…" Draco wasn't expecting the question and didn't quite know how to answer. "Yeah, sure, I suppose." Hermione stepped closer until they were just a few feet apart, and Draco slowly reached out a hand towards the cat. Crookshanks sniffed his fingers warily, but he must've decided that Draco was alright, because he nudged Draco's hand with his nose and purred contentedly when Draco moved to scratch his ears.

"Oh, he likes you," Hermione commented with a grin. "He doesn't let many people do that."

"He's quite soft," Draco said, letting the fluffy fur glide between his fingers and secretly gloating that he was one of a privileged few.

"He is," Hermione agreed. "He makes quite a good pillow, actually." Here Crookshanks turned his head and gave her what was unmistakably a glare.

"Oh, you know you love me, you grumpy old thing," she giggled, planting a kiss on the top of his head. "Why don't you go curl up on your blanket, yeah?"

And so their transformation of the apartment continued, now supervised by one large Kneazle-cat holding court from his basket by the couch. Draco had to hold back his laughter some twenty minutes later when he turned from setting up a miniature Christmas village to find Hermione twirling around with Crookshanks in her arms, singing some ridiculous song about a red-nosed reindeer.

Finally, their hard work was complete. In a matter of hours, the flat had been completely transformed, morphing from an already welcoming living space into a winter wonderland. Hermione beamed, obviously pleased with the result, and they broke for an early supper, the Christmas carols still playing in the background and Crookshanks napping at Hermione's feet. Not long after that, Hermione told Draco it was time to get ready for their outing that night – they were meeting up with the rest of Hermione's friends and all going to support Heather's hard work. As _The Nutcracker_ was a Muggle Christmas classic, Hermione viewed it as a bit of a bonus lesson for Draco as well. Now that Draco knew the location of the flat, he could Apparate to the designated Apparition point, and he headed home to change while Hermione retreated to her bedroom to do the same.

Draco returned twenty minutes later, now sporting black trousers and a dark green button-down under his nice winter coat. It wasn't long before Hermione re-emerged as well, wearing a cowl-necked sweater dress in a festive shade of red with dark stockings and knee-high boots. Draco could smell the light floral scent of her shampoo, her now-loose curls still a bit damp from her shower. Hermione made sure she had their tickets, tucked her wand into the holster she always wore, and locked up the flat, leading the way to the car and the theater.

The theater Heather's studio had rented was a charming old building, and Heather and the other teachers had decorated the lobby with dozens of pictures of their students from their many rehearsals. Draco couldn't make heads or tails of the story from the pictures alone, but Hermione had promised she would explain it to him before the show began. Draco and Hermione mulled around the lobby for a bit while they waited for the rest of their group, and it wasn't long before the others arrived – Cat and Dave, of course, as well as Lauren and Chris, the couple who hadn't been able to join them on their tour of the British Museum. Draco had met the latter two once or twice already, as the group had been on several outings since, and they all fell into easy conversation as they joined the queue heading into the theater.

The theater itself was lovely, with gilded decorations and plush seats upholstered in a deep shade of burgundy. Heather had gotten her friends a block of seats about a third of the way back, and they all filed down the row and settled into their seats. As promised, Hermione gestured to the program in Draco's hand and began to explain the story.

"The main character is a little girl called Clara – her parents are hosting a Christmas party," she explained. "Her godfather gifts her a nutcracker, which she loves instantly, and when her younger brother breaks it, she is heartbroken. The party continues late into the night, and Clara falls asleep after the guests have all gone home. The clock's chime wakes her, and she discovers that the nutcracker, as well as everything else in her living room, has come to life. A great battle ensues between the nutcracker and the mouse king, and Clara saves the nutcracker's life. When she does, the spell upon him is broken, and he transforms into a handsome prince. Grateful for what Clara has done, the nutcracker prince takes her to his kingdom, the Land of Sweets, where all of the residents dance in Clara's honor."

"How does it happen – the room coming to life?" Draco asked. "I thought Muggles didn't have magic."

"It's…a bit ambiguous, I suppose," Hermione said slowly. "Some might say that Clara's godfather, who is rather mysterious, is magical and orchestrated the entire thing, while others could argue that it's all in Clara's mind – just a dream. Muggles might not have _our_ magic, but I suppose you could say they have an entirely different kind of magic."

Draco was still mulling over Hermione's explanation and trying to understand what she meant when the lights dimmed and the music started. The curtain rose to reveal a magnificently painted backdrop and an enormous Christmas tree, around which a group of people in fine eveningwear were gathered. One couple, evidently the hosts, began greeting their guests, and the party began.

Draco was mesmerized. The Wizarding world had music and theater, but he'd never seen anything like ballet before. The performers managed to tell an entire story through only their movements, and yet he understood it as clearly as if they'd spoken at length. It helped a little that Hermione had told him the story beforehand, but Draco suspected he wouldn't have had any trouble regardless. It wasn't a complicated story, but it didn't need to be. The dancers whirled around effortlessly, making countless hours of rehearsal look easy, and they conveyed so many different emotions that Draco wasn't sure what to think next. Perhaps Hermione was right – maybe Muggles _did_ have their own sort of magic.

"What do you think?" Hermione asked once Clara and the prince had left the snow forest and the curtain had dropped for intermission.

"I've never seen anything like it," Draco replied truthfully. "It's…well, Muggles certainly do a lot more than we give them credit for."

"That they do," Hermione agreed, smiling slightly. "Intermission will be about fifteen minutes, and then they'll start the second act. It gives the dancers a little break and the chance to change costumes if they need to."

"How do they do it – the snowflakes, how do they dance like that?" Hermione didn't need to ask what he meant. The snowflake dance had been done _en pointe_ , and if she hadn't understood how that worked, she would've asked too.

"Advanced dancers wear special shoes – the toes are squared off and very stiff, which is how they balance on their toes like that," she explained. "You'll see plenty more of that in the second act." They'd see Heather as well – the studio wasn't huge to begin with, and their class of advanced students was particularly small that year, so a few of the teachers were dancing in the show as well. Heather was covering the role of the Dew Drop Fairy, and another teacher would be dancing the Sugarplum Fairy, with the studio's lone male teacher as her cavalier.

Hermione was right – the second act featured far more older students than the first, which had been mostly little kids dressed as cute mice or toy soldiers. The students in the second act wore elaborate costumes with big tulle skirts, and as Hermione had suggested, many of them wore pointe shoes. Hermione explained in a whisper that the dancers were supposed to represent different delicacies – tea, coffee, chocolate, and marzipan. The Mother Ginger sequence elicited plenty of laughs, and the audience clapped appreciatively at the difficult leaps and turns executed by the Russian dancers. Finally, it was time for the Waltz of the Flowers. These students wore light pink costumes with flowers at their waists and in their hair, their movements mimicking the delicate swaying of petals. Heather, by contrast, wore green, a tiny tiara glittering atop her head and her tutu shimmering as she twirled around her fellow dancers. This dance was by far the longest segment of the second act, and Draco wondered at the stamina and strength required to perform such a piece.

The final presentation was that of the Sugarplum Fairy and her cavalier, both of whom wore costumes of silver and white that sparkled like diamonds. The dance was complex and their technique impeccable, but Draco somehow preferred Heather's bit – while the Sugarplum segment was undoubtedly beautiful, Heather had had a spark and an infectious enthusiasm that the Sugarplum dancers did not. At long last, their piece ended, and the inhabitants of the Land of Sweets all returned for one last goodbye to Clara, who glided off the stage in the same snow-covered chariot in which she'd arrived.

"That was wonderful," Draco said truthfully as he buttoned up his coat and followed Hermione from the auditorium.

"I'm so glad you enjoyed it," Hermione replied. "My parents used to take me to see the show every Christmas since I was a little girl – I've seen it done by a number of different companies, each one with its own unique twist, but they've all been lovely." She stopped for a moment to let another family out of their row. "Heather said she'd wait for us in the lobby – she won't be home until later, but she can spare a moment to say hello."

Heather was indeed standing in the lobby, conversing with a few of her students. Up close, Draco was a bit taken aback by the sheer amount of makeup she wore, her eyes and lips especially enhanced, until Hermione explained in an undertone that the exaggeration was necessary so that Heather's features wouldn't get washed out by the stage lights. He also got a better look at her shoes, which were indeed squared off at the toes like blocks. Hermione and the others waited patiently as Heather crouched down to have her picture taken with a young mouse, whiskers still painted on her cheeks, and then they grinned broadly as the family stepped aside and they were able to talk to their friend.

"Heather, you were lovely!" Hermione gushed, stepping forward to hug her roommate.

"I'm so glad you were all able to come, thank you!" Heather replied. "The children did wonderfully, we're so proud."

"As you should be!" Cat chimed in. "You've worked really hard." The others added various agreeing sentiments, and Hermione presented Heather with a lush bouquet of flowers she'd picked up before the show.

"Oh, you shouldn't have!" Heather protested, bending down to kiss Hermione's cheek. "You're too sweet."

"You deserve them," Hermione insisted.

"Thank you, all of you," Heather said sincerely. "I really should be heading backstage, make sure everything's cleaned up so we don't walk into a disaster zone tomorrow, but it was absolutely lovely of you to come."

"We wouldn't have missed it for anything," Cat assured her. "Now, go get yourself cleaned up and dressed so you can get some sleep."

* * *

 **A/N: My biggest apologies for the delay - last week was vacation, so I was away for part of it, & then I was really busy for the rest. I had a good portion of this chapter written but wasn't able to finish it 'til today. Hopefully the extra length makes up for it, & I still plan to post another this Wednesday as usual.**

 **It's Christmas time! Christmas chapter #2 next time, & then NYE, which will be _very_ interesting...**

 **Thank you all for your kind words, & of course for follows/faves & for reading!**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	15. Silent Night, Holy Night

Draco and Hermione didn't see much of one another in the weeks following the performance – Draco had exams and papers due for his classes, and Hermione insisted that he focus on that exclusively until his holiday break. Draco acquiesced, knowing how much Hermione valued education, and did his best to use the time wisely. As much as he wanted to dive right back in to more holiday traditions, he also wanted to do well in his classes. St. Mungo's only took the best, after all, so if he looked to eventually secure the research position he coveted, he'd need top marks. He also felt like he'd be dishonoring Snape's memory if he were to do poorly – Draco had expressed both an interest and a talent for potions from a very young age, and Snape had always encouraged him, both as his professor and his godfather, to pursue that interest and a related career. Even if Snape weren't here to see it, Draco wanted to do him proud.

Although she missed Draco's witty banter, Hermione didn't mind the break – with the holidays right around the corner, she found that she suddenly had a very lengthy to-do list, and she took advantage of Draco's absence to complete as much of it as she could. She purchased plenty of food and drink for the upcoming Christmas party, spent an evening or two with Harry and Ginny, and tackled the task of shopping for gifts – no easy feat, considering the number of people she had to buy for every year. The Weasleys alone made her list far longer than most people's, plus there were her parents, Harry and Ginny, Ron (whose gift had to be sent early to ensure it arrived in time), her Muggle friends, and of course this year, she also had to find something for Draco. She'd hemmed and hawed over that last one for quite a while. What did you get someone who had the ability to buy virtually anything he could ever want? Eventually, she'd come up with an idea, and while she was a little nervous as to its reception, she was confident that she'd made a good choice.

In this vein, the remaining time until the party flew by, and before they knew it, the appointed day – Christmas Eve – had arrived. Though their guests weren't set to arrive until nearly dinnertime, Heather and Hermione spent the entire morning making sure that everything was ready, giving the apartment one last deep clean, double-checking the contents of the cupboards and fridge against their lists, and finally adding Heather's ornaments to their tree. Heather had been very pleased with Draco and Hermione's hard work, with only a few minor adjustments necessary to accommodate a few additional decorations sent her way by her parents, and they both agreed that the flat both looked and felt wonderfully festive. Finished with their preparations, the girls hurried to their rooms to get dressed, and they even had time to enjoy a leisurely glass of wine, leaving them happy and relaxed when their friends arrived.

The party wasn't huge, consisting of the usual suspects plus Harry and Ginny. Hermione had told Draco that he was more than welcome to bring some of his friends as well, and he'd arrived with Astoria in tow. He'd been shocked that she'd accepted the invite – what little knowledge she had of the Muggle world was related to the Healing arts – but she'd declared that she was more than curious to see what it was all about. Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise when they arrived – she hadn't expected any of his friends to say yes either – but she greeted Astoria warmly and welcomed her to the party. Astoria returned the greeting enthusiastically, thanking Hermione for the invite as her eyes scanned the room, no doubt taking it all in and trying to understand the many Muggle contraptions. Draco laughed lightly and watched her fondly as he greeted Hermione in turn. Hermione laughed as well as she watched Astoria take Draco's hand and drag him across the room, probably to have a closer look at everything. She didn't know the younger Greengrass well at all, but she could see why Draco liked her – she was a little firecracker, full of energy and with an abounding curiosity to rival Hermione's own. Perhaps, if the party went alright, she might be willing to trial some Muggle lessons as well.

There was a bit of a tense moment when Harry and Ginny first crossed paths with the two Slytherins, but both young men proved they had indeed grown up a lot since the war when they greeted one another politely and inquired after each other's work. Ginny and Astoria fell into conversation far more easily – Ginny didn't know Astoria any better than Hermione did, but Hermione suspected it was because there was far less history there. In any case, her heart swelled to see the former rivals getting along, and she was able to put those lingering worries aside and fully enjoy her party. Little groups formed and re-formed as the evening progressed, and she soon found herself in conversation with Astoria and Cat.

"So what is it you do, Astoria?" Cat asked as she munched on a plate of hors d'oeuvres.

"Please, it's Tori," Astoria insisted. "And I'm a doctor."

"I always wanted to be a doctor when I was little, but I was absolute rubbish at science, so there that went," Cat replied with a laugh. "Good on you."

Hermione expressed her agreement, but of course, her acknowledgement of Astoria's accomplishments was a little different than Cat could understand. Hermione hadn't missed the ease with which Astoria had said 'doctor' as opposed to 'Healer', and she'd noticed that the younger witch had made similar subtle corrections to her speech all night – she really had done her research. She'd also risen to the challenge of Muggle clothing with ease, donning a form-fitting navy dress that brought out her eyes, and sky-high heels that more than made up for her lack of height.

"Thank you, Hermione."

Hermione looked up, startled, to find Astoria gazing intently back at her, the two young women now alone. Cat's departure in search of more food had gone unnoticed by her host.

"Sorry?" Hermione asked.

"Thank you," Astoria repeated, "for everything you've done for Draco. He was an absolute mess after the war – still is, in some respects – but with these lessons, you've given him hope."

"I don't know that I'd go that far," Hermione protested, feeling her cheeks warm.

"But you have," Astoria insisted. "Draco's always been hard on himself, partly due to the high expectations set by his parents, but also due to his own personal desire to succeed. The aftermath of the war was harder on him than most, as I'm sure you know, and it was suddenly hard for him to just get through life, never mind live up to his full potential. He seemed content enough with his classes and his goal of earning his Potions mastery, but we all know that a career alone can't make you happy. Draco insisted for the longest time that he didn't _deserve_ to be happy after everything that had happened, and though we constantly told him otherwise, I don't think he really started to believe us until he started his lessons with you. You haven't just given him insight into the Muggle world, Hermione – you've given him a second chance."

Hermione was a bit taken aback, not having been expecting such a deep confession, but she felt honored that Astoria had sought her out to thank her so. Astoria and Draco were obviously very close, and so for Astoria to say something so meaningful and heartfelt was really quite touching. That Astoria believed Hermione had had such a profound impact on Draco didn't go unnoticed either – Hermione hadn't even really thought about it, but when she took a moment to look at the situation from Astoria's, or even Draco's, perspective, she realized what the younger girl meant.

"You're very welcome," she said softly. "It's nice to know that I've made that difference, and I really hope this curriculum proposal goes through so that others may know the same."

"If there's anything I can do to help you, please let me know," Astoria told her. "I might not be able to join in with your lessons due to my work schedule, but knowing what I know now, I'll do anything I can to help you get that proposal passed."

"Thank you, Astoria, really," Hermione said. "This reform has been a goal of mine ever since I started Hogwarts, so to know that you support it means everything." Astoria smiled.

"Hermione, weren't you listening to what I told Cat? Call me Tori."

Hermione couldn't help it – she smiled too.

* * *

It wasn't until roughly half an hour after her conversation with Astoria – _Tori,_ she reminded herself – that Hermione finally managed to talk to Draco alone.

"Happy Christmas," she said, clinking her wineglass against his.

"Likewise. You and Heather did a nice job with the party."

"Thank you – it sort of became our tradition at uni that we all took turns hosting little get-togethers for various holidays, and Heather and I always did Christmas, as it's our favorite."

"And it gives you an excuse to pull out those biscuit recipes of yours."

"Yes, it does," Hermione said with a laugh. She looked up a Draco, smiling when she noticed that he looked perfectly at ease, even happy.

"I have your Christmas present upstairs," she told him then. "I'd like to give it to you tonight, if you don't mind, since I won't see you tomorrow."

"I have something for you as well," Draco replied. "It's in Tori's bag, let me just grab it." Hermione nodded, and the two separated from the party and headed upstairs, where Hermione pushed open the door to her room.

"Stay, Crooks," she said softly, crouching down to scratch his ears. Crookshanks grumbled discontentedly at first – due to both Lauren and Dave being allergic, he'd been shut up in Hermione's room since the start of the party – but he soon relaxed and purred under his mistress' ministrations. Hermione stepped aside to allow Draco entrance before shutting the door carefully behind her.

"I'll admit I had a bit of a hard time with this," she confessed as she withdrew a large box from beneath her bed. "I'm still not quite sure how I did, but…Happy Christmas." Without another word, she held out the box, wrapped in blue with a gold ribbon, to Draco. He pulled out her desk chair and sat down, balancing the box on his lap, and began to carefully unwrap it. When he removed the lid, he found a small set of books, as well as a second, much smaller wrapped gift.

"They're Muggle books – ones I read and enjoyed as a child," Hermione explained as he examined the titles. "These two are mysteries" – she pointed to _And Then There Were None_ and _The Hound of the Baskervilles_ – "I noticed you have that Auror Andrews series everyone raves about on your shelf at home, so I thought you might enjoy these. Shakespeare is a very famous playwright – that book has a few of his best-known works – and _A Christmas Carol_ is a must for the season. The other four are children's books, actually." After much deliberating, she'd chosen _The Secret Garden, The Hobbit, Matilda,_ and _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe._ It was these last four that made her nervous – many Muggle children's books, these included, depicted magic, and it was very different from the magic she and Draco knew. She'd treasured these books as a child, but how would a pureblood react to them? It was a risk, but she'd be leaving out a huge portion of Muggle literature otherwise.

"Thank you," Draco said sincerely, reading the blurb on the back of _The Hobbit_ with apparent interest. "I'm sure if you loved them, then you made a good choice." Lifting the books from the box, he laughed when he found a partially completed application for a library card underneath.

"Just in case you like any of these," Hermione muttered, her cheeks bright pink. There was indeed a library in the village near Star Cottage, and though Draco hadn't yet visited, he'd been meaning to – Hermione had merely jump-started the process.

The smaller parcel within the box contained a castle ornament identical to the one on Hermione's tree. Upon closer examination, it looked so much like Hogwarts that he wondered if she'd charmed it that way.

"I thought about a snake with a green ribbon, but I liked this idea better," she said playfully.

"It's perfect," Draco assured her. He liked the castle much better as well – he'd never been a huge fan of snakes to begin with, and after watching that monster of Voldemort's devour a professor in his dining room, he'd never interacted with them again if he could help it. They were too creepy.

"Your turn," Draco said then, reaching into Astoria's tote bag and extracting two parcels. He handed Hermione the one wrapped in green first. Under the paper was a box, and she laughed aloud when she revealed the contents.

"Great minds think alike, huh?" she mused. For Draco had given her the exact same gift in reverse – the box contained a selection of Wizarding novels.

"I don't know that I've ever seen you reading Wizarding fiction," Draco told her.

"Keeping tabs on my reading habits?" Hermione asked, making him blush. "No, I haven't, really – Hogwarts' library doesn't offer much in the way of reading for pleasure, and none of my Wizarding friends like to read nearly as much as I do." She smiled as she looked at the books. "Thank you Draco, really – I love them."

"This one's from Posey," he said as he handed her the second gift, which was wrapped in pink. Hermione opened it to find a large blanket made of snowy white yarn, little glittering threads interspersed throughout. The blanket was unbelievably soft, and Hermione couldn't help the contented little sigh that escaped as she rubbed the material against her cheek.

"Oh, it's _wonderful,"_ she said. "Please thank Posey for me, that was very sweet of her. I do have something for her as well," she added as she pulled out a second bag. "Just some more yarn, since I wasn't sure what else she might like, but it's something."

"I'm sure she'll love it," Draco said. "Posey's forever expanding her collection." Hermione had already stood and was spreading the warm blanket across her bed.

"That Auror Andrews series everyone raves about, eh?" Draco said with an amused snort as he reached over to grab the tome on Hermione's bedside table. It was indeed a copy of one of the books in that series, and Hermione flushed bright pink when she saw what he'd found.

"I never said I hadn't read them too," she defended. "I like mysteries."

While Hermione resumed straightening the blanket, Draco took a moment to study her room. As he'd expected, it was neat and tidy, everything in its place – he'd never known Hermione to be a messy person, so it made sense that this habit extended to her personal space. The furniture, which consisted of the bed, nightstand, desk with matching chair, dresser, and bookcase, were all made of the same warm wood, and the room itself was decorated in shades of green and blue, from the light mint of Hermione's duvet to the deep, midnight blue of the walls. It made for a very soothing effect.

Crookshanks had leapt up onto the bed sometime during their exchange and was snoozing against one of Hermione's pillows, next to a well-worn stuffed bear. It was hard to tell what color the bear was originally – it could've been white, or perhaps a light brown.

"What's that?" Draco asked, nodding towards the bear.

"That's Mr. Bear," Hermione said. "My parents gave him to me when I was born." She picked up the bear and hugged it, an almost defiant look in her eyes, as if daring Draco to make fun of the toy.

"That was nice of them," was all he said.

"You didn't have a bear?" Hermione asked.

"Malfoy infants get things like engraved silverware and commissioned portraits, Granger," he said dryly. Just as she had when Draco had told her of the house-elves being in charge of the Christmas décor, Hermione found this little tidbit rather sad.

"Rest assured that my mother spoiled and coddled me plenty, Hermione," Draco said, his tone a little softer this time now that he'd noticed Hermione's expression. That seemed to do the trick, as Hermione nodded and put Mr. Bear back in his place on her bed before gathering up her new books and piling them neatly on her bedside table next to the Auror Andrews mystery. As she did so, Draco noticed the framed photograph sitting there. It was of the Golden Trio, and judging by their youthful expressions, it was probably taken in first year, second at the latest. Hermione was in the middle of the two boys, their arms thrown around one another, and all three were laughing hysterically. It was a frozen picture, a Muggle one, probably out of necessity more than anything else, but it radiated joy and happiness. They looked so young, so…carefree.

"We should probably head back downstairs – it's nearly time to head out," Hermione said, bringing Draco's thoughts away from the photograph. "And even if it wasn't, the others will wonder where we've gone." Draco agreed, and after stowing his own gifts safely inside Astoria's bag, they made to leave the room, each of them giving Crookshanks one last pat before departing.

* * *

Shortly after Hermione and Draco returned to the party, it was time for the group to leave. To end the night, they were heading to the little church down the street for the Christmas Eve service. Hermione wasn't a particularly religious person, but she adored this service, and she very much wanted to share it with Draco. The friends gathered up their coats, bundling up against the cold, and left the apartment, filing down the stairs and into the street. They said goodnight to Astoria, Lauren, and Chris, all of whom had other plans following the party, and Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Draco, Cat, and Dave began the short walk to the church.

The church reminded Hermione of the one in Godric's Hollow – a tiny building made of stone, it nonetheless shed a welcoming light, and the six young men and women filed inside and found seats near the back. The inside of the church was as unassuming as the outside, with plain pews and just two small Christmas garlands decorating the front altar space. While they waited for the service to start, Hermione did the best she could to explain the concept of religion in a hushed undertone – as far as she knew, there was next to nothing that compared in the Wizarding world, and religion was a difficult topic even for those who understood it. Nevertheless, she tried her best, hoping Draco could at least sort of understand some of it, as well as the fact that Christmas was, to many, a religious holiday.

The service began right on time with a short prayer and continued from there. There were a small handful of musical selections – there was a lovely flute and harp duet, and a local school choir sang as well. They also told the Christmas story, the story of the baby born in a manger because there was no room at the inn.

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."

Just like _The Nutcracker,_ it was a simple story – the story of a child. But perhaps, Draco thought, things didn't need to be complicated to be special. The Christmas story didn't mean as much to him as it might to a religious Muggle, as he'd only just been introduced to it, but the wonder such faith could bring was truly fascinating, and he listened with rapt attention as the service continued.

Hermione had always enjoyed the entire Christmas Eve service – the church near her childhood home did one very similar to this – but her absolute favorite part was the very end: the carols by candlelight. Every person in the church received a small candle upon arrival. At the end of the service, the ushers lit the candles of the people on the end of each row, and those people in turn lit the candles of those next to them, and so on and so forth until every candle was lit. The lights of the church were then turned off, the candlelight bathing the room in a soft glow, and the congregation sang Christmas carols. They started with more spirited tunes – "Joy to the World," "Angels We Have Heard on High" – and then moved into the calmer, quieter pieces, finally ending with "Silent Night". The church bells would then toll softly in the background as the churchgoers slowly filed out, whispering Christmas greetings as they disappeared into the night. The simple beauty of it all always brought tears to Hermione's eyes, and she looked forward to the service from the moment the holiday season began.

Hermione was a touch nervous as the ushers began to light the candles, recalling Draco's terrible fear of fire, but she needn't have worried – candles were, apparently, just fine, and she supposed he must've gotten used to small lights like that due to the need for open flames in potion making. In any case, there was no fear in his expression, only curiosity and anticipation. The softly flickering lights spread slowly throughout the darkened church and, led by the school choir, the congregation began to sing.

Draco had enjoyed the service well enough, but the candlelit portion was truly breathtaking. He didn't know the words to any of the carols, but the tunes were repetitive enough that he was able to hum along after a bit. Either side of him, Hermione and Cat's voices mingled in sweet harmony, their candles casting soft shadows across their faces, and through the windows of the church, a light snow had begun to fall.

"Silent night, holy night…"

It truly was a beautiful night. Draco felt a warm hand slip into his own free one and looked down, meeting Hermione's gaze. She smiled softly and squeezed his hand, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears that he somehow knew were not of sadness, but of contented joy.

"Happy Christmas, Draco," she whispered. Draco squeezed back.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione."

* * *

 **A/N: As promised, a normal Wednesday update - yay! The Christmas service in this chapter is modeled directly after the nondenominational "Carols and Lights" that my college put on every year - it was a truly beautiful event, & while I'm not religious in the slightest, I always looked forward to it. There was one year that it turned out exactly as I described - it was nighttime, all the lights were off in the chapel except for the candles, & it was snowing outside. I will never forget that. While I don't plan on Hermione getting any more into religion with Draco (I realize it's a massive topic that I could never do justice), I felt I needed to touch on it with the Christmas chapter, & this little service seemed appropriate.**

 **Thank you all for your support of this story, in all forms - you're all wonderful.**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Next week...NYE - should be _very_ interesting! Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	16. Auld Lang Syne

"So…Malfoy." Hermione looked up from her tea preparation to meet her best girlfriend's gaze.

"What about him?" she asked.

"He's…different. I don't really know what I was expecting at your Christmas party, but…he really has changed, hasn't he? I mean, you've been telling us about all these things you've been working on with him, but hearing about it and seeing it are two different things…" Ginny paused. "Am I making any sense, or am I just carrying on?"

"As tempted as I am to say the latter," Hermione teased, "you're making perfect sense – and I don't fault you for being cautious or surprised, either, because you're absolutely right. I could sing Draco's praises all day long, but you wouldn't necessarily believe me unless you had the opportunity to see it for yourself."

"I feel a bit bad for doubting you," Ginny admitted as she added sugar to her cup and stirred.

"Don't," Hermione insisted. "The Weasleys and the Malfoys have extensive history, most of it terrible, to be frank. You haven't had much direct interaction with Draco since the war, so you haven't had as much of a chance to see how much he's changed."

"And he really has," Ginny agreed, tapping her spoon against the side of her cup and setting it aside. She picked up the cup and sipped, the satisfied expression that crossed her face suggesting she'd gotten her tea just right. "It wasn't that long ago that he would've hexed you without a second thought for even suggesting that Muggles were people, and now he's willingly spending time with them."

"At his own suggestion," Hermione added. "Don't forget that this whole thing was his idea."

"And that he's helping _you,_ someone he constantly butted heads with and looked down on in school." Ginny regarded Hermione thoughtfully. "I wonder why he did that, anyway."

"Gin, you know why – I told you all about his thoughts on Healer Constantine's work," Hermione reminded her.

"No, no, not that – I remember that bit. What I meant is, why _you?_ You're not the only Muggle-born around, you know."

"No, certainly not – but I think I know why," Hermione said. "If we're being brutally honest, what other Muggle-born would even want to talk to Draco in the first place?"

"You have a point," Ginny said slowly. "From what you've told me, plenty of people – regardless of blood status – won't even give him the time of day."

"Memories of the war won't fade overnight." Both girls looked solemn at Hermione's words, each knowing how true they were – their lingering nightmares and the pain of loss were a testament to that. "Draco fully expects to face that sort of shunning to at least some degree for many years, if not the rest of his life – his family name has too many terrible things associated with it to hope otherwise. And I'm sure there are plenty of people who, when they find out what he's doing, will write it off as a publicity stunt or an attempt to get back into society's good graces, and won't believe he's doing it because he really does want to make a change. But honestly, what can you do? If I took everything the public said about me to heart, I'd have left the Wizarding world years ago and would be hiding under a rock."

"Maybe not quite that extreme," Ginny said with a laugh.

"Maybe not…but you get my point, I think. Those memories won't vanish overnight, but Draco's chosen to make the most of it. We started talking because we can understand what the other went through – even though plenty of people were involved with the war, only a small handful really experienced the absolute worst of it. Not everyone involved fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. Not everyone involved had firsthand experience with the Death Eaters. I could go on…but I won't, because I think you get what I mean."

"I do." Ginny nodded. "And as weird as it is to say, I really do respect him for taking that step. The Malfoy… _Draco_ I saw at your party was unlike any side of him I'd ever seen before. You've really made a world of difference, Hermione."

"Thanks, Gin. As I told Astoria at the party, I just want to be able to make a difference for the future students of Hogwarts, to make them more aware of the cultural differences and to make the transitions easier."

"And I know Tori told you that she'll help however she can, and I second that," Ginny said. "If there's anything I can do, please let me know. I've already seen how much these lessons have helped Malfoy, and if they can help him that much, I know they can help others from Wizarding backgrounds as well. In fact, if you can find a way to offer them to Hogwarts alumni as well, you can bet I'll be the first to sign up."

"Gin, what did I do to deserve a friend like you?" Hermione asked with a soft smile.

"Dunno," Ginny said with a shrug. "Of course, you befriended my lovely brother first – _why,_ I honestly have no idea – but I'm glad you did. If anyone's lucky, it's me."

"Oh, stop…"

* * *

The time between Christmas and New Year's crept leisurely by, and Hermione enjoyed the change of pace – she was normally so busy, and it was nice to sit back and relax for a few days. On Christmas Day, she spent the morning with her parents, partaking in their traditional Christmas breakfast and exchanging gifts, and in the afternoon, she Apparated to the Burrow. Except for Ron and Charlie, all of the Weasleys, their significant others, and, in the case of Bill and Fleur, their children, were there, which made for a packed house and plenty of entertainment. Teddy and Victoire spent nearly an hour chasing each other around the living room, shrieking and laughing as they ran laps around the sofa, and the adults enjoyed the time catching up, mugs of steaming tea or cocoa in hand. It was loud, it was chaotic, it was a situation no sane person should ever consider entering…and it was _wonderful_.

Draco spent his own Christmas morning with Posey, who was positively giddy with all the new yarn she received, and his afternoon and evening with his friends at Adrian and Daphne's house. Astoria talked extensively of the Christmas party, the people in attendance, and how incredible she thought it all was, and though Draco was thoroughly embarrassed at hearing her sing his praises at length, he was secretly pleased that she'd enjoyed it so much. Draco, too, was enjoying the break – his classes weren't in session over the holidays, and he used his free time to visit the village again, as well as popping over to Diagon Alley to restock some of his potions ingredients.

* * *

Draco's next Muggle lesson was scheduled for New Year's Eve. Lauren's uncle and oldest brother owned a club in London, and every year, Lauren threw a big New Year's bash there for all of her friends. Hermione and Draco had both been invited, and they both planned to attend – strictly speaking, New Year's Eve wasn't all that different between the two worlds, but Muggles, at least, had far more to offer in the alcohol department. Firewhiskey was definitely an acquired taste, and elf-made wine was more suited to fancy dinner parties than anything else. It would also be a great opportunity for Draco to learn more about Muggle popular music – Hermione had been to Lauren's party before and knew that they always played a wide variety of hits, so Draco would definitely get a decent exposure. The night of the party, Hermione's friend group – minus Lauren, who would already be at the club – would meet at Cat's apartment, which was closest, and they would travel to the club _en masse_ from there.

"Honestly, Cat, are you almost ready?" Dave shouted down the hall towards Cat's bedroom door. "We're going to be late!"

"There's no set start time, you arse!" Cat's voice shouted back. Hermione snickered at the oh-so-predictable exchange – Cat and Dave were _always_ bickering.

"You've changed your clothes three times already!" Dave said exasperatedly. "What the devil was wrong with what you had on?"

"Didn't like it," Cat said simply as she finally emerged, a tan trench coat hiding whatever she'd finally chosen to wear underneath. They didn't, however, hide the killer heels she wore, which were the same vivid red as her lipstick.

"It's New Year's Eve – don't you want to look good?" she asked as she checked to make sure she had everything and took one last look at herself in the hall mirror. "Draco, Hermione, Heather – good to see you all. Where's Chris?"

"Already at the club," Hermione replied. "He is Lauren's boyfriend, after all."

"Ah, yes – she's probably got him mixing cocktails," Cat said with a laugh. "Poor bloke."

"You know Lauren will have him on that dance floor all night, Cat," Heather said. "You really think our host isn't going to live it up with her man?"

"You have a point," Cat admitted. "Those two are practically joined at the hip." She grabbed her keys and ushered everyone out the door. "Let's go."

Dave needn't have worried – only about ten other people were already there when they arrived, and they didn't get much of a chance to check out their surroundings before they were practically jumped on by their host.

"It's so good to see you!" Lauren squealed as she enthusiastically hugged each of the girls.

"Lauren, you saw us just last week at Hermione's," Cat laughed. Lauren scoffed.

"Details," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Leave your coats, and let's get you some drinks."

At first meeting, Draco wasn't quite sure how Hermione had ended up friends with someone like Lauren, because they were complete polar opposites, personality-wise. Lauren was extremely perky, nearly as blonde as he was (although Hermione had told him hers was a product of something called "hair dye"), and loved being the center of attention. She reminded Draco of a Parvati Patil or Lavender Brown type, and Draco knew Hermione hadn't been particularly close with either of her dorm mates. As it turned out, though, Lauren's love of reading rivaled even Hermione's, and the girls had bonded over favorite books one afternoon in their university library as they worked on an assignment for a shared class.

"You boys ready?" Cat asked. Draco looked back at the girls from where his gaze had wandered to the décor, and he had to fight to keep his expression neutral.

What Hermione hadn't really considered was that their evening at the club would be an extreme eye-opener in the way of Muggle women's clothing. As the weather had grown progressively cooler as Draco's lessons with Hermione had progressed, he'd only ever seen Hermione in jeans and jumpers, or some variation thereof – with the exception of the ballet and the Christmas party, for which she'd worn sweater dresses. Club attire, however, was an entirely different ball game. It seemed that the object was to wear as little as possible – now that they'd removed their coats, he could see that Cat, Lauren, and Heather all wore very short, form-fitting dresses, Cat and Lauren's black and Heather's a deep green, and Hermione had chosen a floaty blouse in light blue and a black skirt nearly as short as the other girls' dresses. Cat and Lauren both wore heels that Draco swore could be used as lethal weapons. Heather, who was quite tall for a girl, stuck to flats with sparkly gems on the toes, and though Hermione wore the same knee-high boots she'd worn to the ballet, they had a completely different effect when paired with this new attire. All four girls wore makeup and had styled their hair. They looked, for lack of a better word, _hot._

"I was ready twenty minutes ago," Dave joked, bringing Draco's thoughts back to the present. Cat slugged his arm as Lauren laughed and led them to a booth in the corner. Chris, Lauren's extremely tall, sandy-haired boyfriend, joined them there, and they wished each other Happy New Year as they took seats. Lauren's brother, a good-natured bloke called Pat, took their drink orders, and the friends settled into easy conversation.

"So your uncle and brother own this place?" Draco asked as he looked around again. The club was extremely classy, he thought, and he suspected that Lauren came from money for her family to be able to own a place like this right in the heart of London.

"They do," Lauren said. "That's my uncle over there, behind the bar." She pointed, and Draco was a bit confused – the man looked to be Pat's twin, not his uncle.

"My father is the oldest of ten kids," she explained, anticipating Draco's question. "Mark, my uncle, is the youngest by quite a bit, and Pat is my oldest sibling – they're only a few years apart. They're more like best friends than uncle and nephew, and they've wanted to work together since they were in primary school." Pat came back just then with a tray laden with drinks, asked if they had any music requests for later, and once they'd given him a number of suggestions, he returned to the bar, where he chatted with his uncle while the two worked. The girls laughed and talked while Chris proposed a game of cards, and the party got underway.

It was another hour or so before all of the guests had arrived, and by then, the party was in full swing. Music from several different decades and genres poured from the speakers, and drinks flowed freely as the attendees laughed, danced, and gossiped. Lauren had disappeared into the crowd long ago, fulfilling her duties as host, and the other three girls were working their way through brightly colored cocktails.

"Oooh, I love this song!" Cat exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat as the music changed. "Come on, let's dance!" Crawling right over Draco and out of the booth, she grabbed onto Heather and Hermione's hands and pulled them to the dance floor, where they began jumping and swaying to the beat. Chris followed, no doubt off to find Lauren, leaving Draco and Dave alone.

"She's a firecracker, isn't she?" Draco said, one hand still on the cocktail glass Cat had nearly upset in her haste to leave the table.

"'Firecracker' is Cat's middle name," Dave said with a laugh. "Actually, it's Frances, but A, she'd kill me for telling you that as she hates it, and B, I think Firecracker suits her much better. She wouldn't be Cat if she wasn't."

"Are you and her…?" Dave nearly choked on his beer.

"God, no!" he said. "Cat's my cousin, Draco."

"You have to admit it was a valid question – you two fight like an old married couple," Draco said. Of course, he left out the bit about how some people in the Wizarding world did actually date – or even marry – their cousins, some of his own relatives included. Dave chuckled.

"Been that way since we were kids," he said. "We grew up just down the road from one another, and since our mums are really close, we spent a lot of time together. I love her, I really do, but damn, can she drive me up the wall!" He paused to take another drink.

"What about you and Hermione?" This time, it was Draco who almost choked.

"Granger?" he asked. "What about her?"

"What's the deal with you two?" Dave asked. "There's obviously _something_ going on there…and you're always calling her 'Granger', which is weird."

"That goes back to our school days," Draco said. "Gran- _Hermione_ and I have a long history, not all of it good. We were…rivals, in school, I guess you could say."

"Ah, so it's a pulling pigtails kind of thing," Dave joked.

"A what?"

"Never mind. I still say you've got a thing for her."

"I've seen the looks you throw at the girls when they're not looking," Draco said, eager to steer the conversation away from such uncomfortable waters. "If not Cat, then who?"

"Heather," Dave admitted. "Not that she's ever looked my way like that, but she's the one. Hermione's gorgeous, of course, but she's a bit intimidating."

"I'll give you that," Draco said, chuckling a little and doing his best to ignore the bit about Hermione's looks. "Granger certainly packs a punch. Heather, though – she's a nice girl. You should go for it." Draco never thought he'd find himself giving relationship advice to anyone, never mind a Muggle, but crazier things had happened, after all.

"How long do you think we have before we get dragged over there?" Dave asked. Draco suspected it was Dave's turn to want a change of topic. "Little Miss Firecracker and company are going to expect us to join them at some point, and I wouldn't put it past Cat to physically drag us onto the dance floor."

"Knowing Cat, you're right, and probably not long," Draco agreed. The girls had been dancing for several songs now, waving their arms over their heads as they bopped around and sang along to their favorite tracks. It was actually rather amusing to watch.

As if on cue, Cat made a beeline for their table.

"C'mon, you two!" she said. "Stop being sticks in the mud and come dance!" Just as she'd done with the girls, she grabbed Dave and Draco's hands and pulled them into the crowd, to where Hermione and Heather were laughing as they did some sort of strange dance move the boys didn't understand.

Surprisingly, the whole club experience wasn't nearly as new as Draco was expecting – in fact, attendees' attire aside, it was almost exactly like some of the parties the Slytherins had thrown in their common room. Especially after a Quidditch victory, the dungeon-dwellers threw off the stuffy masks they wore for the rest of the school and let loose, dancing and partying long into the night. The Slytherin girls loved to dance just as much as the Muggles did, and they did so just as ridiculously – or, if the situation called for it, just as provocatively. Once the younger years had been sent to bed, the Firewhiskey flowed like water – the situation was much the same in the club, with many empty glasses and bottles of varying shapes and sizes now littering the tables, although Draco had to give the Muggles the one-up for their much better alcohol selection. Besides the few slight differences, it really was one of the most familiar scenarios Draco had found himself in since beginning his adventures in the Muggle world – even more so because here, where no one knew him or his past, he was free to cut loose just like he'd done at those Slytherin parties. He was a bit self-conscious at first, the ingrained need to maintain his image getting the best of him, but after some coaxing from Cat and Hermione, he slowly but surely loosened up, aided by the alcohol and the infectious atmosphere. The music continued to play, everything from sensual Latin beats to adrenaline-inducing rock 'n' roll pounding from the speakers, and the partygoers loved every minute. How many songs they danced to, Draco had no idea, but he didn't care – he was more focused on the fact that he was actually having fun.

At some point, the music began to ease, the club beats giving way to slower, sultrier tracks. People began pairing off all over the room, wrapping their arms around one another as the singer crooned. Hermione laughed lightly as Dave made a show of offering her his hand, accepting with a mock curtsey of her own, and Heather took a spin with Chris while Lauren took a much-needed break.

"Shall we?" Draco asked Cat. Cat grinned.

"Why not?" She stepped forward and linked her arms around Draco's neck, his own coming to rest at her waist, and they swayed back and forth to the music.

"Having fun?" Cat asked as they moved. She wasn't much taller than Astoria, so she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. She'd cut her hair, Draco noticed, so that it just kissed her shoulders, with a deep side part and long fringe that nicely framed her face, and her makeup made her dark eyes pop in the dim lighting.

"Yeah, actually," Draco replied. "Reminds me a bit of the parties my house used to throw back at school." Houses, he knew, were one of the things that were safe to mention in Muggles' presence, as Hermione had explained that plenty of Muggle schools used a similar system.

"Hermione mentioned that her house used to throw some crazy parties as well," Cat said. "Were you two in the same house?"

"Not at all," Draco said with a laugh. "Rival houses, actually." He wasn't surprised, though, that the Gryffindors threw rowdy parties as well – those lions were loud and raucous on a normal day; he could only imagine how wild their Quidditch parties got.

"Hmm." Cat looked up at him again. "Let's not talk about school anymore, yeah?" she said, even though she'd started the conversation in the first place. She smiled mischievously. "Let's just have fun…"

"May I?" a familiar voice asked a few minutes later. Draco and Cat turned to see Dave and Hermione, Dave looking to cut in. Draco chuckled inwardly a little at the thought of Cat and Dave dancing – he wouldn't put it past them to "accidentally" step on each other's toes, although he suspected that the other man was ultimately going for a second switch involving Chris and Heather – but he passed Cat off to her cousin, accepting Hermione's hand in return. He sucked in a breath and nearly swore at the feel of her soft skin – had it always been that way? Hermione wasn't a bombshell and probably never would be, but she'd still grown up to be quite a pretty young woman, with soft curves and the most expressive brown eyes Draco had ever seen. Her hair, while still an entity of his own, had tamed considerably from the bushy mass it had been in her early Hogwarts years – it now fell across her shoulders in wild but somehow manageable curls, and now that she'd figured out how to tame it, it was far more beautiful than beastly. Draco wanted to go back in time and smack his younger self for ever insulting her hair, though he wasn't quite sure why he was suddenly so adamant about the thought.

"Having fun?" Hermione asked, unknowingly echoing Cat's earlier question. She stepped closer and mimicked Cat's dancing position, Draco trying his best not to reveal his feelings about their close proximity.

"Yeah, I am. It's been a good night." _And why do my hands on your hips feels like the most natural thing in the world?_

"I saw you and Dave talking earlier," Hermione commented. "What about?"

 _We were talking about you and how he thinks I have a thing for you._

"Nothing important," he said instead.

"Hmm." Hermione looked up at him through mascara-tinted lashes. Her eyes were sparkling in the low light. "Well, I'm having fun too – it's nice to just let loose once in a while." And she certainly had – she was barely more than tipsy, having finished her last drink a long time ago, but she'd danced and jumped around like an idiot for almost the whole night, and the chance to act ridiculous with no consequences was great fun.

"I know what you mean," Draco said, nodding slightly to accentuate the point. He, too, had finished his last drink a while ago, but the feel of the witch in his arms was enough to make him feel far more out of it than he really was.

 _Merlin, what have you done to me, Granger?_

"Ten…nine…eight…seven…"

Hermione looked up at Draco again. Did he know that wizards and Muggles had the same New Year's Eve tradition?

"Six…five…four…"

More to the point, did she want to be the one to let him know?

"Three…two…one…HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The crowd around them erupted in cheers as the distant sound of fireworks exploding echoed in from outside. The club's lights flashed in a rainbow of colors, no doubt an effect choreographed for the stroke of midnight by Pat and Mark, and the familiar Scottish tune rang throughout the club.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind…"

Draco stood awkwardly in the middle of the dance floor, not quite sure what came next. A few feet away, Lauren and Chris were locked in a passionate embrace, kissing as if they were the only two people in the room, and plenty of other couples were exchanging similar kisses and well wishes all around the room. So, Muggles kissed on New Year's as well…Draco stared at the brunette witch in front of him, not quite sure what to do.

"Oh, what the hell," Hermione muttered – at least, that was what Draco thought she'd said. He wasn't quite sure, because the next second, Hermione had pushed herself up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his cheek, all of Draco's processing abilities vanishing the instant she did so.

"Happy New Year, Draco," she said quietly. A moment later, she was swept away by Dave, who picked her up off the floor and spun her in a circle just like he'd done at the British Museum, her curls swinging everywhere as she threw back her head and laughed.

Draco couldn't say how he managed it, but somehow, he found his way back to their table, grabbed his jacket, and hurried outside for some fresh air. Once he was leaning against the brick wall of the club, he slowly raised his hand and touched his cheek. Hermione – _Hermione Granger_ – had kissed him. His insides were all tangled up, like he'd just finished a particularly exhilarating Quidditch game…but was that necessarily a bad thing? Draco's thoughts were all over the place, and although he'd never admit it out loud, his inner self was practically shouting from the rooftops that there might actually be some truth to Dave's insinuations.

"Draco?"

Draco pulled his thoughts back down to Earth and turned to see Cat looking at him, her head tilted sideways in question.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

"Yeah," Draco said quickly. "Just needed some air, is all."

"The others are coming soon," she told him. Cat paused and bit her lip. "Erm…Draco? Listen, I was wondering…"

"Everything alright?" Draco repeated Cat's question back at her. She looked so uncertain, which was about as un-Cat-like an expression as there could be.

"Erm…yeah." Cat raked her fingers through her hair. "Listen, I…doyouwanttograbacoffeesometime?"

"Sorry?"

"Do you want to grab a coffee sometime?" Cat said, far more slowly this time. "With me." Even in the dim light of the street lamps, it was obvious her face was bright pink.

It took Draco's brain a few minutes to process what she'd said…and once he had, he was still reeling so much from everything that had happened in the last few minutes that his answer felt like an out-of-body experience, like he wasn't actually the one saying it. Somehow, though, he managed to untangle his thoughts – and his tongue – long enough to respond…and he said yes.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, I did tell you things would get interesting at New Year's...don't hurt me! The endgame here _is_ Dramione, but those of you who've read my other stuff know I like throwing wrenches into things...**

 **Anyway, thanks as usual for all your support! Love you all.**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	17. Panic and the First Date

When Draco woke up the next morning, it took him a moment to remember where he was. After they'd left the club, Draco had gone back to Heather and Hermione's apartment – there was no way for him to return home to Wiltshire without using Wizarding means, which obviously wasn't an option with Heather around, and so Hermione had invited him to crash on their couch for the night. It was just as well – Apparating while drunk was a terrible idea, and even though most of what Draco had imbibed had worn off earlier in the evening, he wouldn't have taken that risk regardless. Tori had far too many horror stories from St. Mungo's.

Once he'd determined where he was and why, a different emotion began to set in: panic. The details of midnight were slowly but surely coming back, and the aftermath was one hell of a wake-up call.

"Granger?" he called. "Granger!" He got no response – it was entirely possible that Hermione was still asleep, given how late they'd been out – but Draco was insistent. This was a crisis of monumental proportions.

 _"Hermione!"_

That did the trick – not ten seconds later, Draco heard a distant door open, and Hermione came trotting down the stairs. Her fingers were deftly twisting the last of her hair into a braid. It was still wet from her morning shower – so he hadn't woken her up, then.

"Draco?" she asked, finishing off the braid and looking up at her houseguest. "Everything alright?"

"No." Draco shook his head. "Is Heather around?"

"No," Hermione replied in turn, her expression worried. "She's still asleep and won't be up for a while yet." She crossed the room to take a seat on the couch. "Draco, what's wrong?"

"I…" Draco swallowed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair, barely refraining from pulling on it. Hermione had never seen him look so flustered.

"Cat asked me out last night," he finally blurted out. Hermione's expression morphed into a smile and she had to swallow the laugh that threatened to escape. So Cat had made a move, huh? She hadn't known her friend was interested in Draco. Now that she knew what had him so worked up, though, his reaction was more cute than anything else.

"Draco," she said gently, still smiling, "isn't that the whole point of this exercise?"

"Huh?" Clearly, Draco's brain was still elsewhere.

"Your Muggle lessons," Hermione said. "Getting a date with a Muggle is a big part of that, is it not?"

"Yeah, but…what am I supposed to do?" Draco looked at her then, his eyes wide and confused.

"What do you mean?" Hermione cocked her head, not sure she understood.

"What am I supposed to do?" Draco repeated. "I said yes, but…well, what am I supposed to do?"

"Draco, you've asked me that question three times now," Hermione said. "You're going to have to be a little more specific…"

"I agreed to go on a date with a Muggle!" Draco said. "Granger, I don't know the first thing about dating a Muggle!"

"Draco, of course you do," Hermione said soothingly, the smile creeping back onto her face again. "What do you think we've been doing all these months? You've made so much progress, you've learned so much…"

"But this is different," Draco insisted.

"No, it's not," Hermione said soothingly. "You're a natural with everything you might need to know to cover the basics – getting there, paying for things – and you've spent plenty of time in Muggle establishments. The only difference is that this time, it'll just be you and Cat. What exactly did Cat say?"

"She asked about getting coffee," Draco mumbled.

"And you've been to several coffee shops," Hermione replied. "That's a nice neutral place to start, you're already familiar with the atmosphere…and it's not like you got asked out by a complete stranger; you know Cat."

"Yeah, I do," Draco said with a reluctant nod.

"Are you regretting you said yes?" Hermione asked curiously, wondering if perhaps Draco didn't actually like Cat that way and had only agreed because of the night's high emotions or to not hurt her feelings.

"No, I'm not," Draco admitted. "I…Cat's a good person, and I think it could be fun. I just…"

"Then there's nothing to worry about," Hermione reassured him. "You _know_ you're ready to take on the Muggle world, Draco, and Cat will be more than understanding if there are things you don't know – you can't tell her you're a wizard, of course, but you did grow up in the country, so it's perfectly normal that you might not have been exposed to certain city things before."

"You really think I can do this?" Draco said after a long pause.

"I don't think you can – I _know_ you can," Hermione told him, reaching over and squeezing his hand. "You've passed every lesson with flying colors – there's no reason why you can't have an amazing date with Cat." Draco let out a long, slow breath, feeling much more confident now that he had the assurance from his teacher.

"I…I can do this," he said firmly. "I can do this."

"Yes, you can," Hermione agreed. "And I'll even help you contact her, if you want, since you don't have a telephone."

"Thanks, Granger – I really do appreciate it."

"Of course – and I really do hope it goes well. Cat's a lovely person, if a bit overly enthusiastic sometimes."

"That she is," Draco agreed, finally allowing himself to laugh a little. Now that he'd talked to Hermione, he was starting to realize how silly his fears were – he _did_ know Cat, he _had_ done well in all of his Muggle lessons to date, and it's not like he'd never taken a girl out before. As much as he tried to forget, he had dated Pansy for nearly two years, after all. It had been a while, of course, but it wasn't an entirely new experience.

"We can get in touch with her whenever you'd like," Hermione said, releasing his hand and rising from the couch. "But since we can't do so just yet – Cat's even less of a morning person than Heather – shall we have some breakfast? After all, it would be rude of me not to feed you after you spent the night on my couch." She grinned impishly as she parroted the same phrase Draco had used when she'd accidentally slept over at Star Cottage, and Draco, who obviously remembered as well, laughed.

"Breakfast sounds good," he said. "And Granger?" Hermione, already halfway to the kitchen, turned back to look at him.

"Yes?"

"Thank you." Her grin morphed into a warm smile, and Draco tried to ignore the way his stomach flipped at seeing such a smile directed his way. Hermione hadn't brought up what had happened between them last night, and she didn't seem upset that he was arranging a date with Cat, so maybe she'd just meant to wish him a happy holiday, nothing more. Draco also tried to ignore the part of him that felt strangely disappointed at the idea.

"Anytime."

* * *

When Draco finally returned home, he found Posey sitting on the couch organizing her ever-growing basket of yarn. A half-completed project, made from what looked like the yarn Hermione had given her for Christmas, sat on her lap.

"Is Master Draco having a good New Year's?" Posey asked, taking a break from her work to look up at him with her large, bright eyes.

"I did, Posey," Draco replied. "Tiring, though – I'll be turning in early tonight."

"There is being sandwiches in the fridge, Master Draco," Posey told them. "Posey is knowing Master Draco is being out late, so Posey is making sure he is being fed."

"Posey, you're too sweet," Draco said, patting her on the head affectionately. "But no more work today, you hear? Today's a holiday, and I insist that you give yourself the chance to relax. Knit to your heart's content; anything else can wait 'til tomorrow."

"Yes, Master Draco," Posey said, unable to stop the small smile creeping onto her face. Draco was careful to give her just enough to do to keep her happy, as most house-elves took it as a personal slight if they didn't have any work at all, but he also knew Posey was happiest when knitting and would never turn down a chance to partake in her favorite hobby. The Draco from years ago would never have thought so, but present-day Draco thought of Posey as family and treated her as such. He'd treated Dobby just as horribly as his father had done, back in the day, but his far-more-conscious older self felt rather bad about it later, especially once he'd learned that Dobby had died a hero's death during the war. When his mother had come to him with Pearl's secret, he'd promised himself that Posey would have the best life a house-elf could ask for.

"I think I'm going to put my things away and rest for a bit," Draco told Posey as he gestured to the overnight bag slung over his shoulder. "If you need anything, I'll be in my room." Perhaps he might relax with one of his new Muggle books. He'd already begun reading them, and while some of the magic depicted within their pages was a bit strange, he couldn't deny that Muggle authors crafted some brilliantly imaginative tales. That was the downside to magic, he supposed – when you already had such a wondrous thing at your everyday disposal, it was harder to come up with something truly awe-inspiring.

"If you is needing anything, Posey is here," Posey said, her long ears flapping. Draco gave her one last fond look before retreating to his room.

Draco shut the door to his room, turned to put his bag on his bed, and stopped short. Sitting on his bed, nestled snugly between the pillows, was a stuffed bear, its fur a warm brown color and a velvety blue bow tied around its neck. Tucked between its paws was a note.

 _It's a bit late for this to be a Christmas present, so consider it a congratulations for all your hard work. Posey will be proud of how good a Muggle you've become – I know I am, and you should be, too._

 _Love from Hermione_

Draco picked up the bear and stared at it for a long time. He marveled at the softness of the fur, but even more so at the fact that the bear was there in the first place. Hermione certainly hadn't needed to do something like that – she'd said so herself that she'd already given him a Christmas gift – but she'd done it anyway, and he was rather touched. The bear definitely hadn't been there when he'd packed his things and departed the night before, so he guessed Hermione must've delivered the gift through Posey, who sometimes went into Draco's room to tidy up even though he insisted she didn't have to do so. Obviously, Hermione had been far more affected by his not having a stuffed toy than she'd let on, and even though he was far past his infancy, she'd still insisted on including him in this very important aspect of her Muggle culture. She'd found an excuse to buy him the bear – his progress in his lessons – but Draco suspected she'd have given him the toy regardless. She was just extremely thoughtful that way.

…and did she always sign notes to her friends like that?

* * *

They scheduled the date for the following Tuesday, after Cat got off work. That gave Draco a little bit of time to get used to the idea, but not so much time that the worries he'd voiced to Hermione were in danger of reemerging. Cat both lived and worked in London, and so it was easy for them to find a convenient coffee shop, as well as for Draco to get there – all he had to do was Apparate to Diagon Alley and then take the Tube from Charing Cross Road. He was a bit nervous entering the station, having never done so completely on his own before, but he'd taken the Tube enough times with the others that he knew how to purchase a ticket, and he was soon on his train.

"Hey, Draco!" Cat said brightly as she approached. They'd decided to meet on the corner by their chosen coffee shop – ideally, Draco would've liked to have picked her up at her flat, as a proper gentleman should, but as the coffee shop was in between Cat's work and her flat, it would've been counterproductive for her to go all the way home. He compromised by offering her a lovely bouquet of flowers, small enough that she could easily carry it home but still wonderfully fragrant and very aesthetically pleasing.

"Oooh, they're beautiful!" Cat gushed, accepting the flowers and immediately bringing them up to her nose to inhale their scent. "Thank you Draco, I love them."

"Only the best for my dates," he said, though he couldn't help but grin too at her enthusiasm. He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

"Goodness, aren't you just the perfect gentleman?" Cat said admiringly as they walked. Draco laughed a little and shrugged.

"What kind of blokes have you been dating, Cat?" he asked, opening the coffee shop door and guiding her inside with a gentle nudge to the small of her back.

"None like you, I assure you," she said. "Not that my previous boyfriends were heathens, of course, but I don't think any of them had quite such impeccable manners."

"Boyfriend, eh?" Draco asked, pulling out her chair and making sure she was properly situated before settling into his own seat. "Aren't we being a bit presumptuous, Miss Bradley?"

"Oh, shut it," Cat laughed. "You know what I meant." She paused for a moment to peruse the menu. "So how _did_ you end up so chivalrous, anyway?" Draco mentally cringed at 'chivalrous' – it was such a _Gryffindor_ word – but focused on answering her question.

"My mother," he said simply. "My mother had proper etiquette training ingrained in me from a young age. She used to throw extremely lavish parties, and those that I was expected to attend, she expected me to know how to behave properly. That, and she always taught me that respecting the women in my life was important." There was, of course, the whole incident with Tracey Davis as well, which had really cemented everything for him, but that would've been much too complicated to explain, especially when he'd have to edit so much of it out for his Muggle companion.

"Your mother is a remarkable woman, then," Cat concluded, tapping her fingers absently on the menu as she finally decided what she wanted.

"Was."

"Sorry?"

"She was a remarkable woman – my mother passed a few years back."

"Oh, I'm so sorry – I never would've said anything if I'd known," Cat said sincerely. Draco shook his head.

"You had no way of knowing," Draco assured her. "But I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind – so why don't you tell me more about yourself."

"Well, I don't think I grew up in quite the same affluence as you," Cat said with a pointed look. When Draco looked at her in almost startled confusion, she added, "Most people don't throw parties like the ones you just described, Draco." She laughed a little at his expression – he, in turn, couldn't believe she could actually read him that easily.

"I hadn't intended to bring that up," he said apologetically, "and it was quite rude of me to do so…although I'm not sure how you got that from a simple mention of parties."

"I'm in psychology," Cat said with a shrug. "Study of behavior and all that – I'm pretty good at reading people, always have been. Anyway, I'm the middle child of three – one brother, one sister – and we grew up not far from here. I've always liked music – I love to sing and wish I could play an instrument, but I'm absolute rubbish at every one I've tried."

Their easy conversation continued to flow as they ordered drinks and snacks. They talked of school and their favorite classes, Draco editing his responses as necessary, their childhoods and family life, their interests and hobbies, and a multitude of other subjects. Draco was quite surprised at how easily they moved from one topic to another, quite surprised that he really could manage to carry on a lengthy conversation with a Muggle and enjoy it. After nearly two hours, they finally decided it was time to head home. Draco settled their tab, helped Cat into her coat and buttoned up his own, and they left the cozy café for the chilly January streets.

"If I couldn't pick you up, at least let me walk you home," Draco said as they made for the nearest Tube stop.

"Wouldn't that be out of your way?" Cat asked. "I mean, you don't live in the city, do you?"

"No, I don't," Draco said, "but I can get home easily enough." _Back to the Leaky Cauldron, turn on the spot, done._

"I suppose…" Cat still seemed reluctant.

"I insist," Draco said. "What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't walk the lady to her door?" Cat blushed and giggled then, and she finally acquiesced, following him into the station and down the steps onto the platform.

As they exited the Tube and headed down the street toward Cat's building, more doubts began creeping into Draco's mind. How did Muggles _end_ their dates? For that matter, how did _anyone?_ He'd never gone on a date that ended with the participants going in two separate directions afterwards – most Hogwarts dates ended in the entrance hall or the common room, and that was that. Dating in the real world, Wizarding or Muggle, _was_ an entirely new experience, and Draco was now at a loss. What was he supposed to do? And why hadn't he thought to ask Hermione? It was too late now…

"Thank you, Draco," Cat said, pulling Draco from his thoughts to realize that they'd made it to their destination. "I had a great time, and the flowers are just lovely." She gestured towards the bouquet clutched safely in her left hand.

"You're quite welcome," Draco replied, knowing that he meant it. The afternoon had been much more enjoyable than he'd been expecting, especially once he'd gotten over his nerves and relaxed.

"Would you…would you like to do this again sometime?" Cat asked, a bit uncertainly.

"A second date, Miss Bradley?" Draco joked, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Well, then…I suppose that could be arranged." He then dropped the teasing and added, "I would like that very much." Cat smiled widely.

"It's a date, then," she said. "I'll contact you through Hermione again? I still think it's bloody weird you don't have a phone," she laughed.

"Perhaps I'll have to have her help me with that," Draco replied, smiling a little in return. Cat shook her head.

"You're an odd one, Draco Malfoy," she said. Stepping closer, she stretched up on her toes as far as her short stature would allow and kissed his cheek.

"But you're a gentleman nonetheless, and I think I'll keep you around," she whispered. She stepped back and winked. "See you soon." She reached into her purse, withdrew her keys, and skipped up her front steps. When she turned back, Draco saluted her with an imaginary hat, and she giggled once more before turning the key in the lock and disappearing out of sight.

 _That actually went rather well,_ Draco thought to himself as he made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron to head home. _Maybe dating a Muggle won't be so bad after all._

* * *

 **A/N: So there you have it - the first date! What did you think? Next chapter: Hermione keeps a promise. Any guesses what they're up to?**

 **Couple of quick things to think about: first off, Hermione hasn't yet begun to think of Draco as anything other than a friend & mentee. She kissed him on NYE because it's tradition & she wanted him to have the full experience, not because she has romantic feelings for him. Those will come, but not quite yet.**

 **As for Draco, he honestly doesn't understand what he feels for Hermione. That kiss confused the hell out of him, & he's not used to the open affection she so commonly displays. Does she like him, or is she just being nice? Does _he_ like _her,_ or is he just drawn to her because they've been working together so closely? He'll have to sort that out on his own. And no, he's not stringing Cat along, either - he genuinely does like her  & is interested in getting to know her better; they just aren't meant to last. (& for those of you curious as to how long they'll last, no more than a few months in story-time, & those will go by quickly. As we've already seen, Cat is observant, & she'll definitely pick up on Draco's thoughts on Hermione - perhaps even before he does. No broken friendships either, this is most definitely an HEA endgame all around.)**

 **Mmkay, I've gone on long enough. Hopefully that cleared up any confusion. Thank you, as always, for all your wonderful support.**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! Happy spring! :)**


	18. The Museum of Quidditch

Hermione tightened her ponytail, made sure her coat was fastened, and gave herself one last once-over in the mirror before grabbing her purse and keys and locking up the flat. Her discussion with Draco back in November had been in the back of her mind ever since, and now that a rare day off all around had arrived, it was finally time to make good on her promise – it was time to see the Museum of Quidditch.

Had it just been Draco and Hermione, they probably could've gone to the museum much sooner, as they both had rather flexible schedules. However, Harry and Ginny were coming along as well, and as they had far less free time on their hands, they'd only just now managed to find a day when all four of them were available. Hermione had been extremely surprised when Draco had agreed to her inviting her friends along, she having fully expected him to balk at the idea, but he told her it was the least he could do after she'd not only invited his own friends to her Christmas party, but had been so open and welcoming with Astoria when the younger girl had accepted the invite. Hermione was a little nervous, as the other three had lengthy histories and hadn't interacted much at the party, but she figured that if she could overcome her past and form a positive relationship with Draco, then Harry and Ginny could, too.

As it was in a rather odd spot, the most common means of transport to the Museum of Quidditch was taking a Portkey or Floo from either the Department of Magical Games and Sports or the nearest Quidditch supply shop. As the Leaky Cauldron was an easy rendezvous point, the quartet chose to meet there and pick up a Portkey at Quality Quidditch Supplies. The wait was short, and they soon found themselves speeding towards their destination.

They arrived in what was evidently a traveling room, where a young woman collected their used Portkey and directed them to the main room. The lobby was fascinating, with high, glass ceilings charmed to show scenes from recent matches (it was currently showing live action from a match between Pride of Portree and the Wigtown Wanderers) and black-and-white marble flooring. Hermione and the others joined the queue to get tickets, and after paying the modest entry fee, they followed the signs to the first exhibit room.

Hermione knew, of course, that Draco had never been to the museum before, and as it turned out, neither had Harry or Ginny. Harry, of course, had grown up with Muggles and therefore hadn't even known the museum existed until he'd first read _Quidditch Through the Ages,_ and even then, he'd had far too much else to worry about during his school years and had never managed to make the trip. Ginny, who came from an entire family of Quidditch fanatics, knew of the museum's existence, but she'd never been, most likely due to the cost. While the entry fee was easily manageable for most, the Weasleys had always been quite poor, and with seven children, outings that cost even a small amount of money per person were few and far between. Both were beyond thrilled at the prospect of visiting the museum and had talked of little else since Hermione had first issued the invitation.

They'd declined the option of a guided tour – apart from attracting attention just because of who they were, they felt it wouldn't be fair to their guide. After all, while the guides were most certainly knowledgeable and even passionate about the sport, their group still contained a professional Chaser; Hogwarts' youngest Seeker in over a century; a second Seeker who, while not quite as famous as the first, had certainly done quite well in his own right; and the ex-girlfriend of Viktor Krum. The poor guide wouldn't know what to do.

The museum was organized in chronological order, beginning with the very earliest broom games. Sparkling plaques named those games and briefly described their rules, while animated sketches and paintings beside the plaques gave the viewer a rough idea as to what game play might have looked like. Many of the games had long since died out, some due to lack of popularity, and others due to the danger factor – the Scottish game of Creaothceann, in particular, was known for its high death toll.

This first room also contained the early history of the broomstick – why it had been chosen over all else to be the Wizarding world's preferred method of flight transportation, as well as an actual medieval broomstick. Harry winced as he moved closer to examine the broom.

"I certainly wouldn't fancy riding that," he said, his eyes moving back and forth between the broom and the manuscript beside it. The broom itself was roughly made, the handle knotty and unpolished and the twigs tied haphazardly at one end. The manuscript, which hailed from Germany, featured an illustration of three wizards riding similar brooms, and they all looked extremely uncomfortable.

"It sounds awful," Hermione agreed as she too looked at the exhibit. "No Cushioning Charms either." Harry grimaced again.

"Ouch…I think I'll stick with my Firebolt, thanks."

During the Battle of the Seven Potters, Harry had lost his Firebolt, which had been a gift from his godfather, Sirius Black – the broomstick had fallen to the ground far below amidst the chaos of the Death Eaters' attack, and Harry had thought it gone forever. Later that night, however, a small team of Order members had set out to retrieve Alastor Moody's body, hoping to find it before the Death Eaters did so that the former Auror could have the proper burial he deserved. Unfortunately, they hadn't found Moody, but as they'd scoured every square inch in the area surrounding where they'd suspected he'd fallen, they _had_ come across the lost Firebolt. Remus Lupin, who'd been part of the search party, had recognized it instantly as Harry's and had insisted on returning it to him when the time was right, knowing how much the gift meant to the younger wizard. Unfortunately, Harry hadn't gotten the broom back until after Lupin's death and hadn't been able to thank him for it, but he made up for it by treasuring the broom even more than he had before, keeping it in tip-top shape and taking it out for a spin whenever he could.

The second room contained the beginnings of the game now known as Quidditch. The foursome read excerpts from the diary of Gertie Keddle, which contained some of the earliest known documentation about the earliest form of the game, and many different artworks brought these roots of Quidditch to life. A gigantic tapestry depicted a mass hunt for a Golden Snidget, the very small and very round bird that was the predecessor to the Golden Snitch.

"Oh, that's horrible," Hermione said as her gaze drifted to the portion of the tapestry depicting the Snidget's capture and death.

"Thank Bowman Wright for ensuring our sport didn't become a slaughter-fest," Ginny said solemnly. Bowman Wright, of course, had invented the Golden Snitch. "If he hadn't succeeded, Snidgets might well be extinct by now."

The museum only got more interesting as they continued onward. Now that they'd learned about the game's earliest beginnings, it was only natural that they move on to the finer points of the game, including the evolution of the gear and the rules.

"Look at these," Draco said, pointing to a case containing two primitive Quaffles. The first had a strap attached to one side; the second had finger holes similar to those on a bowling ball. "How would you like to play with those, Red?" Ginny raised her eyebrows at the nickname but didn't comment – it was shocking enough that Draco had spoken to her directly.

"Don't think I would," she said, standing beside him to have a look. "I suppose the strap wouldn't be too bad, but can you imagine what would happen if your fingers got stuck in the holes of that one?" Draco cringed at the mental imagery – modern-day Chasers threw the Quaffle both very fast and very hard. Getting your fingers stuck would mean certain dislocation at best.

"And these don't have the levitation spells worked into them that modern Quaffles do," Ginny continued, pointing to the description. "I can see why they charmed the Quaffle like they did – having to race back down to the ground every time your teammate dropped it would be extremely annoying."

And so it went. They read impassioned articles about spectators' opinions on the elimination of baskets from the goal hoops, they saw examples of dozens of Quidditch-related texts, and they had a brief overview of the modern game's rules.

"Attacking an opponent's broom with a club?" Harry asked in disbelief as he took a closer look at an exhibit on fouls. All seven hundred Quidditch fouls had been committed during the World Cup final in 1473, and while the complete list had never been made available to the public (the Department of Magical Games and Sports seemed to think that people might get ideas), the exhibit contained a small sample of the most common fouls with explanations, as well as an example or two of some of the more outrageous offenses. Nearly all of the fouls were impossible now that using wands against other players was illegal, but it still got them wondering – what on _earth_ had gone down in that 1473 match?

After a discussion about possible fouls that grew increasingly wilder as they talked, the group explored a room dedicated to the broomstick's evolution. Models of well-preserved Silver Arrows and Moontrimmers sat next to the range of Cleansweep, Comet, and Nimbus racing brooms, and patrons were invited to visit an adjoining room and test many of the brooms on display in a series of obstacle courses or on the racing track. Harry immediately challenged Draco to a race, and Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperated fondness as the two young men hurried to the wizard on duty in that room. It seemed that while Harry and Draco were more than capable of being in the same room without hexing each other to bits, their Quidditch rivalry still remained as strong as ever.

"Let them play," Ginny said with a laugh. "Once they're sufficiently worn out, I'll go beat them both." Hermione joined in with her friend's laughter at that – while Ginny played Chaser professionally and had always preferred that position over anything else, she had had a brief stint as a Seeker when Harry had been banned by Umbridge, and no matter what position she was playing, she was wicked fast. Draco hadn't played much at all since Hogwarts, and while Harry had owned the fastest broom in the world since he was thirteen, he'd never played professionally. Hermione didn't doubt that Ginny _would_ win that particular contest.

The final portion of the museum was a tribute to the teams of the British and Irish Quidditch league. There was a small section dedicated to each team, with plenty of photographs, newspaper articles, and other memorabilia. Having met the man at the World Cup, they all recognized the photo of Ludo Bagman from his Beater days with the Wimbourne Wasps and the English national side, although Bagman was much fitter in the photo than he'd been in real life. Ginny was quite embarrassed, but still rather pleased, to see her own likeness looking back at her from the wall dedicated to the Holyhead Harpies – with her fiery hair whipping behind her like a banner and her eyes blazing as she raised the Quaffle to score a goal, she looked very fierce indeed.

"Nice picture, Gin," Hermione said, nodding approvingly at her friend's image. "Let's see if we can recreate it, shall we?" She raised the camera she'd brought with her, and Ginny did her best to mimic her portrait-self's pose (which was quite difficult as the latter kept moving). Finally, after several failed attempts and much laughter on Hermione's part, Ginny got the hang of it and flawlessly replicated the shot.

"You're ridiculous, 'Mione," Ginny said, though she was laughing too.

"And you love me for it," Hermione cheekily replied.

"Where did my husband and Mr. Blondie go?" Ginny asked as she glanced around the room.

"Mr. Blondie?" Hermione repeated, chuckling slightly. Ginny shrugged.

"He called me Red, so I thought it was a suitable retort," she said simply. Hermione giggled.

"They're over that way, looking at the other team displays," she said. "What do you think they'll do when they find out they support the same team?" Ginny's eyes widened.

"No!" she gasped, bubbling over into disbelieving laughter.

"Yes! Draco's been a fan since he was a kid!" Hermione insisted.

"Who would've thought?" Ginny was still laughing. "Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, supporting the same Quidditch team."

"Stranger things have happened, I suppose…oh, look!" Hermione pointed to the wall at the opposite end of the room. "They have World Cup photos!" And indeed, as the two women moved closer, they saw that the wall was covered almost from floor to ceiling in photographs of the World Cup finalists. Hermione quickly found the 1994 photograph.

"Ireland versus Bulgaria!" she said, her face lighting up at the memories. "I remember your brothers won a rather unusual bet that night."

"That they did," Ginny agreed. "But _I_ more remember that you went on to _date_ a certain someone in this photo, you lucky bird."

"Oh, hush," Hermione said, swatting her friend's arm as her cheeks pinked. She had, of course, briefly dated Viktor Krum during her fourth year, and though the romance had fizzled out due to distance and the war, they'd maintained their correspondence and were still great friends. Viktor had been the perfect first boyfriend, an absolute gentleman, and Hermione would always remember those times fondly.

"I think it's your turn for a photo, 'Mione," Ginny said knowingly as she pointed to the Ireland-Bulgaria display and reached for Hermione's camera. Knowing that Ginny would only continue to pester her until she caved, Hermione acquiesced and handed her friend the device before posing next to the team shot, two thumbs up and a cheesy smile on her face.

"Make sure I get a copy," Ginny instructed as she returned the camera. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Mum." Secretly, though, she'd already thought of sending one to Viktor, just for a laugh. At least he'd already had his broken nose tended to in this particular photo – in most of the press coverage surrounding that game, his face was still covered in blood.

"Oh, hush – don't be a brat. You know you're having just as much fun as I am."

"I'm having a great time, yes." Just because Hermione didn't like to _play_ Quidditch – or fly much at all, for that matter – didn't mean she didn't like to _watch_ it. In fact, she enjoyed it very much. Her absolute fear of flying – and who could blame her, really, when the vast majority of her experience included shoddy school broomsticks, an escaped hippogriff, an abused dragon, and Fiendfyre – prevented her from partaking in anything more than the occasional Weasley orchard pickup game, but she loved watching a good match just as much as the next girl.

At that moment, Harry and Draco rounded the corner of an exhibit on the opposite side of the room, coming into the girls' line of vision. Hermione couldn't help it – when she saw the two former enemies getting along, clearly engaged in what appeared to be a heated yet animated discussion about something they'd seen, she broke into a bright smile. Her heart warmed at the sight of the boys, and she was immensely proud of both of them for all the changes they'd been through. Neither had had an easy path to this point, and that they'd put aside their differences and were even beginning to embrace their similarities was the best thing she could've asked for.

Ginny, for her part, was looking back and forth between Hermione and the boys, a thoughtful expression on her face. She was intimately familiar with the many looks Hermione had reserved for Harry, along with the emotions associated with each, but aside from the Christmas party, she'd never seen Hermione look at Draco Malfoy with such fondness before. In their school days, their exchanges had been disdainful at best, and the few times Ginny had seen the two interact after the war, the best she'd seen was a careful indifference. But this – this was entirely different. Hermione and Malf… _Draco_ were honest-to-goodness friends, and in a strange way, it made Ginny smile almost as widely as Hermione herself. The Wizarding world still had a long way to go in terms of post-war recovery, and prejudice of one kind or another would still be around for a very long time, but if Draco, of all people, was capable of such an honest complete turnaround…there was still hope yet.

* * *

 **A/N: Just a bit of lighthearted fun - all Quidditch-related info comes from _Quidditch Through the Ages._ Next chapter is a big one...working on it now!**

 **Thank you, as always, for your support of this story. Love you all!**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	19. The Loss of a Friend

Life went on in the usual fashion after the museum trip. Hermione continued outlining potential lesson plans, which was becoming a much bigger task as time went on. She was still designing lessons with Draco in mind, of course, but now that she knew for certain that the idea could really work, she was focusing more on the project as a whole, which required a comprehensive curriculum for all seven years. Armed with her mountains of notes, she now set to dividing the material into a semblance of order, deciding on what would need to be covered first, next, and so on. Of course, she didn't need to outline every single lesson right now – that would ultimately be up to the chosen instructor – but she still needed as solid a plan as possible if her proposal had any chance of passing. The Board of Governors had always been concerned with what was best for the students, but drastic change was an entirely different thing altogether. Such changes weren't made often, and as an added challenge, this particular change had rather a lot to do with Muggles. Just because Voldemort had been defeated didn't mean everyone in Wizarding Britain was suddenly eager to accept their non-magical counterparts, and the board would undoubtedly consider the possible backlash of merely implementing such a course. But Hermione was determined to succeed, determined to show them that bridging the gap was a good step towards dissolving the lingering prejudices, and she began meeting with Professor McGonagall twice a week to flesh out her work.

For her part, the older witch supported Hermione's proposal one-hundred percent, even going so far as to suggest ideas for the Wizarding side of the curriculum. Professor McGonagall knew all too well the difficulties associated with secrecy, her own family and personal life wrought with frustration and heartbreak largely due to cultural misunderstandings, and so she was eager to see her young protégée's plans brought to fruition. It was too late to take back everything that had been said and done in her own life, but if Minerva McGonagall could help future generations to better understand the world around them (and by extension, avoid similar situations), then she would do so in a heartbeat. She felt rather ashamed of herself that she, of all people, had never considered how difficult stepping into the Wizarding world for the first time must be for Muggle-born students, since she would always remember the difficulties her own family had faced when her Muggle father had first learned of his witch wife's true heritage. The merit of the reverse situation was obvious as well – too many students had walked the halls of Hogwarts ingrained with anti-Muggle prejudice but without even so much as a drop of knowledge on the subject, and that certainly hadn't ended well. No, Hogwarts would be all the richer for having such a class, and McGonagall would gladly help her former student every step of the way. If all went well, the proposal would pass sometime that spring or summer, leaving the school year for them to fine-tune the details and hire an instructor before officially opening the course the following autumn.

The biggest downside to Hermione's extra-busy schedule was that she had far less time to spend with anyone. Of course, aside from their weekly dinners, she hardly spent much time with Harry and Ginny to begin with, as the latter two both worked long, sometimes unpredictable hours, but they were now hard-pressed to find _any_ time outside those dinners. And Draco…if she were being honest, Hermione missed the blond quite a bit. His classes had picked up the workload and intensity with a vengeance this term, meaning he spent far more time brewing in his lab or writing essays than he had before, and when he wasn't occupied with classwork, he was often with Cat. Not that Hermione begrudged him that, of course – in fact, she was pleased that the relationship was going so well, Draco having exceeded her expectations and then some – but she did miss their conversations, the witty banter and sarcastic humor that she hadn't yet managed to find with anyone else. Draco stopped by occasionally to tell her how things were going, but he hadn't arranged another lesson in ages, and once Hermione had helped him to acquire a mobile phone, he didn't even need to arrange his dates with Cat through her anymore. Oh, she still saw him when her group of Muggle friends managed to get together, but that happened almost as infrequently as her outings with Harry and Ginny, and besides that, it wasn't the same. While she loved her Muggle friends dearly, there was always that necessary filter, and then of course both of their attentions were divided in such situations. It seemed a lifetime ago that Draco had last stolen a chocolate frog from her desk drawer. When had her world changed so drastically? When had she gotten to the point where she, Hermione Granger, actually _missed_ Draco Malfoy?

* * *

Hermione trudged home one evening after a particularly long day. She'd had an exceptionally long and draining meeting with Professor McGonagall that afternoon, focused on the Board of Directors, their procedures and policies, and a whole host of other red tape that Hermione just didn't want to deal with but would absolutely have to understand if she had any hope of getting her proposal passed. The young witch had left Hogwarts with a huge stack of notes, written in multicolored ink to coordinate her thoughts on things and to highlight the most important points, and she wanted nothing more than to relax in a bubble bath with a cup of tea, and maybe a lighthearted novel for good measure. Perhaps she could convince Heather to order takeaway, have a girls' night in – they hadn't done that in a long time.

All of Hermione's plans, however, went out the window as soon as she stepped into her living room. She took one look at the basket beside the couch…and screamed.

* * *

Heather and Cat had been relaxing in the former's room when they heard someone scream. It was a horrible sound, gut-wrenching, filled with pain and anguish. Quickly abandoning their chat, they threw open Heather's bedroom door and hurried downstairs, stopping short at the sight before them. Hermione was on her knees beside the couch, her arms wrapped tightly around a fluffy orange something…a fluffy orange something that wasn't moving.

"Crooks," Hermione murmured. "Crooks, no! Please be alright, _please_ be alright!" Her whimpers quickly escalated to wails, tears pouring down her face as she rocked back and forth, the cat clutched close to her breast, and Heather and Cat hurried to her side.

"Oh, Hermione," Heather said, reaching over to stroke her roommate's hair. "Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry…" She didn't know the circumstances, having just entered the scene, nor had she noticed anything amiss when she'd gotten home, but it was obvious that Crookshanks had passed sometime during the day, and Hermione was distraught. Heather had gotten to know the large orange cat during their university years and knew that he was far more than just a pet to Hermione – he was a friend, a part of the family. His death was a huge blow for her friend.

"Hermione, honey, is there anything we can do?" Cat asked. The question was kind of a moot point, as Hermione definitely wasn't in any fit state to talk, but besides rubbing her friend's back, Cat didn't know what else to do. Hermione was still crying much too heavily for Cat to offer her tea or any other sort of drink, and Cat certainly wasn't about to try to pry her away from Crookshanks' limp form.

"Harry," Heather said. Cat looked up at her.

"Sorry?"

"Harry – her friend Harry. We should contact him." Heather and Cat had met Harry several times and knew of Hermione's sibling-like relationship with the dark-haired young man. If anyone should be there for Hermione in this time of grief, it was him.

"We should," Cat agreed. "But…how?"

And therein lay the problem. Heather and Cat both knew Harry, but neither had ever had any reason to get his number, nor did they know where he lived or worked.

"Hermione's phone?" Heather suggested.

"That bag is a bottomless pit," Cat replied with a shake of her head, neither of the girls knowing just how true that statement really was. "And what if it's in her pocket or something?"

"Well, we've got to do something," Heather said exasperatedly. Cat furrowed her brow.

"Draco," she said after a moment. "I'll contact Draco. They all went to school together – he might know how to get in touch with Harry." Extracting her own phone from her pocket, she quickly scrolled through her contacts and tapped out a message. Hoping against hope that Draco would respond quickly, she snapped the phone shut and clutched it tightly, determined to answer the instant the device buzzed.

* * *

Draco was in the middle of revising a particularly tricky essay when his phone vibrated on the desk beside him. It had taken him a little while to get used to the thing, especially all the foreign noises it made, but he had to admit it was a much easier – and faster – means of communication than anything wizards had. He flipped it open and read the message from his girlfriend:

 _H. needs Harry ASAP – it's Crooks. Can you help?_

H…who was H? Draco read the message again. Harry…that had to be Potter; they didn't have any other mutual acquaintances called Harry…and Crooks…Crooks… _Crookshanks._ Oh, no…if Cat was asking him to contact Harry as quickly as possible, something terrible must've happened to the big ginger cat. "H" made sense now – _Hermione._ Draco's stomach dropped with the same horrible, lurching feeling he got right before he was physically sick. If something had indeed happened to Crookshanks, she'd be a wreck.

There was no questioning what Draco had to do. Hermione had already done so much for him, all of it so selflessly, and the time had come to repay that kindness. Finding Potter was the first step. The other bloke might not be his best mate, but Cat was right – Hermione would need the dark-haired wizard by her side to get through this. Without a second thought, Draco tidied his things as quickly as he could, locked the door to his lab, and told Posey where he was going while donning his coat and shoes, only barely taking enough time to make sure his laces were properly tied. He let Cat know he was on his way, locked up the house, and turned on the spot, visualizing the Ministry of Magic with all his might.

Draco hurried through the Ministry's atrium, heedless of the many strange looks he was getting from those around him. He thanked every deity he knew that there was no line at the visitors' desk – he contemplated skipping registration altogether and making straight for the lifts, but given his name and dubious past, that line of action would probably land him a cell in Azkaban without a second thought. Once he'd been entered into the system, he accepted his wand and visitor badge from the witch on duty and rushed to the lifts, requesting level two. The lift ride seemed to take forever, with people coming and going at nearly every floor, and Draco almost flattened a tiny old wizard in his haste to exit when they finally reached his stop. He rushed down the corridor to the Auror offices, demanding from the first person he saw where he could find Harry Potter.

"He's in a meeting," the dark-haired witch replied, staring at Draco with obvious distrust over the top of the report she'd been reading. Draco swore under his breath, then hastily composed himself. Throwing a fit wouldn't get him to Potter any faster.

"Do you have any idea when said meeting is due to let out?" he asked as politely as he could. The witch glanced at the clock and shrugged.

"No, but they've been in there a while," she said. "I don't suppose it'll be long now." Knowing that was the best answer he was going to get, Draco thanked her and took a seat outside the department conference room. Of course, he wanted to barge right in and demand that Potter leave immediately, but again, in his position, that probably wasn't the best idea. Very few people knew just how close he'd become with Hermione, and the Auror department didn't fall into that category – whoever else was in that meeting room likely wouldn't believe it if Draco went in and told Potter that something had happened to his best friend. After all, to the casual observer, why would Draco Malfoy, of all people, know anything of significance about Hermione Granger before Harry Potter himself did?

After nearly fifteen agonizingly slow minutes, the conference room door opened, and a group of people filed out, Potter among them. He was rifling through a stack of parchment and looked annoyed.

"Potter! A word," Draco said, standing from his chair and striding over to the other wizard as soon as he emerged.

"Can it wait, Malfoy?" Harry asked. "This case is a royal pain in my-"

"No, it can't," Draco insisted. Steering Harry away from the other overly curious Aurors, he added, "It's Granger."

"Hermione?" Harry said, immediately on the alert. "What's wrong? Did something happen to her?"

"I got a message from Cat not too long ago," Draco told him. "She didn't give details, but something's wrong with Crookshanks – she told me to find you as soon as possible." This time, it was Harry who swore.

"I'm taking the rest of the day off," he declared as he turned to his boss. "Family emergency." Without waiting for anyone to question how _Draco Malfoy_ would be the one reporting such a thing, Harry nodded to his coworkers and motioned for Draco to follow him to his office.

"We can Floo directly to the Leaky Cauldron from here," Harry said, gesturing to his fireplace as he dropped his files in his desk and locked it. "Faster than dealing with the Ministry lifts. They're at Hermione's place, I'm guessing?"

"I'd assume so," Draco replied. Cat hadn't said as much, but he'd never known Hermione to take her pet to her friends' flats before, so it seemed a logical guess.

"Then I'll see you there," Harry said. He grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the container on his mantle, shouted, "The Leaky Cauldron!" and was gone.

Thanks to the wonders of Apparition, the two young men appeared in the alley behind Hermione's building mere minutes later, and they scrambled up the stairs. Harry knocked impatiently as he wrung his hands, and Cat opened the door soon after.

"Thank goodness you're here," she breathed as she hugged them both. "She's just there…" They followed her into the living room, where Heather was crouched next to Hermione, the latter still holding Crookshanks.

"Oh, Hermione," Harry said sadly, crossing the room to sit next to Heather. Heather moved over to make room, shooting both men a grateful look. Yes, she was Hermione's close friend…but in this case, Hermione needed more than that. She needed her _best_ friend, her brother in all but blood.

"Shh," Harry murmured into her hair as he wrapped his arms around Hermione and pulled her close. "It's alright, love. It's alright."

"No's'not," Hermione choked. "Harry…Crooks…" Her sobs redoubled as she buried her face in Harry's shirt.

"Shh. I know, Hermione, I know. It hurts. Let it all out." Harry had always felt he was absolute rubbish at the whole comforting thing, but he had to try. It pained him to see his friend so upset, and even more so when he knew exactly what she was feeling right then – he remembered all too well the heart-wrenching pain he'd felt when Hedwig had died. While whispering soothing words to her and running his fingers through her hair, Harry motioned for Draco to join them. Draco was a tad confused – he was really just the messenger here, wasn't he? – but then he realized he was much more than that. No, he wasn't just passing along the memo to someone else who might care, because Draco knew that _he_ cared as well. Hermione had become far more than just his teacher in these last months – she'd become a true friend, one of the few people willing to see him for who he was rather than who he'd been. He no longer relished in her pain – in fact, he felt it almost as acutely as she. He dropped to his knees beside Potter, Hermione in between them, and looked to Potter for his next move.

"We have to get Crookshanks out of here," Harry said quietly, so that Hermione wouldn't hear him over her tears. "I don't think we'll be able to calm her down otherwise." Draco swallowed heavily and nodded. Hermione had been holding onto the cat like a lifeline since they'd arrived, and he suspected she'd been doing so for quite a while before that – getting her to let go wasn't going to be easy.

"Granger…Hermione," he said softly. "It's time to let Crookshanks go." Over her head, Harry gave him a panicked, 'what on earth do you think you're doing?' sort of look, but Draco shook his head. Coddling her and trying to slowly coax the cat away wasn't going to work, he knew that. He silently implored Harry to trust him and continued speaking.

"I'm so sorry, Granger – but there's nothing you can do for him now, and you know that," he said. He took a deep breath and added, "Listen…we'll take him to Star Cottage. There's a lovely spot out in the back garden that's always in the sun – I think he'd like it there." To Harry's – and, partially, Draco's – surprise, Hermione cried out anew and flung herself on Draco instead, wrapping her arms tightly around him as a fresh wave of tears surfaced. She'd finally let go of Crookshanks, but now it seemed like she wouldn't be letting go of _him._

"You're t-t-too s-sweet, Draco," Hermione managed to say. "Offering to…to…" She couldn't finish her sentence, but Draco knew what she meant anyway.

"Don't think anything of it," he insisted. "He lived a good life and deserves the best. Of course, if you want something different, I won't mind, I just thought I'd-"

"No," Hermione interrupted, rather more forcefully than he was expecting. Most of her friends had tolerated Crookshanks at best; that he had made such an offering meant far more than she could express at the moment. "I…it sounds perfect. I think he'd…I think he'd l-l-like th-a-a-at." She hiccupped and hugged him fiercely, her cries considerably quieter but still continuing, her tears soaking Draco's shirt.

"Poor thing," Cat murmured sympathetically. Draco jumped; he'd forgotten that the other two girls were still in the room. It probably should've felt awkward, sitting here with another girl wrapped around him while his girlfriend was right there, but these were far from normal circumstances.

"D'you know where his carrier is?" Harry asked Heather, having carefully scooped up Crookshanks. They'd have to take him to the vet to see if they could determine how and why he'd died, and of course he was trying to get the cat out of Hermione's sight for a bit.

"Yeah – hang on, I'll grab it for you," Heather replied, and she hurried from the room.

By the time Heather had returned and they'd secured Crookshanks in the carrier, Hermione had fallen asleep in Draco's arms.

"She's exhausted," Cat said. "I don't blame her – she's been crying for ages now."

"Might just be best to put her to bed," Harry added. "She needs time to process this, but she needs to rest as well."

"And Crooks?"

"I'll take him for now – Hermione doesn't need that reminder around until she's ready." Harry turned to Draco. "Let's get her upstairs." Draco nodded and hoisted Hermione into his arms, following Harry up the stairs. The girls stayed behind, somehow sensing this was something the boys needed to do alone. Harry pulled back the covers so that Draco could place Hermione gently on the bed, and they removed her coat and shoes, neither of which she'd shed before she'd seen her poor pet. Unfortunately, there wasn't much they could do about the rest of her clothes – they could've easily Transfigured them into pajamas, of course, but if Heather or Cat happened to come check up on her, they would question how she'd changed, which would be awkward without a decent Muggle-friendly explanation. Harry brushed a loose strand of hair off Hermione's face, and Draco, remembering how attached she was to the toy at Christmas, reached over and tucked Mr. Bear under the blankets beside her. Harry raised an eyebrow at the other young man but didn't comment.

"You'll come check on her tomorrow?" Draco asked as they reached the upper landing.

"Yes." Harry made as if to go downstairs, but seemingly changed his mind and added, "Thanks, Malfoy." Draco cocked his head to one side.

"For what?"

"For notifying me. I know Cat asked you to, but you didn't have to, and…well, I appreciate it."

"Don't go getting all sentimental on me, Potter," Draco warned. "It was what Hermione needed, that's all."

"Now who's the one getting sentimental?" Harry muttered to himself, but Draco certainly heard.

"Potter-"

"Alright, alright. But it does mean a lot." Making a decision then, he offered his hand to Draco…and unlike their long-ago interaction on the Hogwarts Express, Draco accepted the handshake.

* * *

They buried Crookshanks the following weekend, Hermione, Draco, Harry, Ginny, and Posey all standing beside a little patch of earth just behind Star Cottage. It was a lovely spot, promising plenty of sweet-smelling blossoms in the warmer months, and as promised, the winter sun, though weak, never seemed to stray from that particular area.

Hermione had had a very rough week. Harry had gone with her to the magical vet, who'd determined after a series of tests that a genetic disease had killed Crookshanks, one that usually didn't manifest itself at all until it was too late. The disease had worked quickly and Crooks hadn't died in pain, but Hermione was still upset – after all, though she'd had no idea how old Crookshanks was when she'd first gotten him, magical (and even part-magical) creatures usually lived longer than their all-Muggle counterparts, and she'd been expecting several more years with her pet. Now, facing the little mound of earth that would soon cover his casket, she was having a hard time keeping her shoulders from shaking, and silent tears flowed down her cheeks. As Ginny draped a comforting arm around her, Harry stepped forward and spoke.

"Crookshanks…I know we didn't always get along, but I owe you." Harry paused and sighed, running his fingers through his perpetually messy hair. "You were the best companion my best friend could ask for, and you were the first to accept and trust someone who was very dear to me." It was true – Crookshanks had recognized Sirius for what he was long before any wizards saw him out of his Animagus form, and the two animals had formed a close friendship of sorts. Even after Sirius had been freed and had gone back to spending most of his time as a human, he and the ginger cat had maintained that relationship, Crookshanks often jumping into his lap to demand a treat or a cuddle.

"Your instincts were almost always right, and I'll forever be grateful to you for everything you did," Harry finished – somewhat lamely, he thought, but the small smile Hermione managed to send his way showed that his efforts hadn't been in vain.

"I'll never forget all the times we watched you chasing gnomes around the Burrow's garden," Ginny said next. "Thanks for the laughs, Crooks."

"You accepted me," Draco said simply. "Granger was shocked – she told me that you didn't like many people, didn't give your trust easily, so…thank you."

Finally, it was Hermione's turn. She bravely stepped forward to kneel on the cold ground. Up close, she could see the beautiful design Harry had painstakingly carved into the top of the casket: a large, furry cat, accompanied by an equally huge, bear-like dog. Crooks would be able to play with his friend for eternity now.

"I don't even know what to say," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the casket. "The witch at the menagerie thought you were never leaving – "Nobody wants him," she told me – but I knew you were the one for me. I walked in intending to get an owl, and instead, I came out with you – a decision I've never regretted. You protected me, accompanied me on so many adventures, waited for me to come back while I was on the run, and loved me unconditionally. And I loved you – I _love_ you, so, so much. I miss you." She dropped her head, the tears thickening once more.

"I love you, Crooks. I always will."

Harry and Ginny carefully levitated the upturned earth into the hole, packing it neatly into place. Just like he'd done for Dobby's grave at Shell Cottage, Harry revealed a large, flat rock he'd chosen and painstakingly carved with Crookshanks' name, which he placed atop the grave. Draco stepped forward and placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder, his thumb gently rubbing circles. She reached back through her tears and took his hand in hers, holding on tight. Posey came forward and took Hermione's other hand – the little elf hadn't ever met Crookshanks, but she knew he'd been important to the young witch, and Posey didn't like seeing Miss Hermione so upset. She'd readily offer whatever comfort she could, no matter how small.

Hermione sighed and swallowed heavily, her eyes never leaving her cat's final resting place. This week had been one of the hardest weeks she'd ever had, and she knew that the feeling of loss wouldn't disappear overnight…but having all of these people surrounding her, people who cared for her so deeply, did help a little.

* * *

 **A/N: Info on Professor McGonagall comes from Pottermore - if you haven't already done so, I highly recommend reading her backstory there. It's quite sad & gives us a lot of insight into this amazing woman.**

 **As for Crooks...poor Crooks. I've known this was going to happen for a while now, but it was still really hard to write. I lost my own Crookshanks (yes, we really did call him that!) about 3 1/2 years ago now to a very similar disease - as far as I know, the gene is undetectable until it manifests itself, & when it does, it's basically too late. The end comes quick; he died within 2 weeks, if I remember right. If Hermione's Crookshanks had something similar, she wouldn't have even known he was sick. This chapter is a bit of a catalyst - things will start changing from here on out.**

 **Thank you all for your lovely words of encouragement, & of course for just reading the story in the first place! I hope you're all enjoying it.**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	20. Conversations and Realizations

Harry tapped his quill against his desk, his gaze wandering and his mind unable to focus on the report he was supposed to be reading. Instead, his thoughts kept straying back to Crookshanks' death and burial – more specifically, the interactions between Draco and Hermione on both occasions. Harry would readily admit that he wasn't the world's most observant person, but he'd always been almost hyperaware when it came to Draco Malfoy, and so this time, he'd seen things he might've missed in different circumstances. While he had to admit that Draco wasn't half bad these days – they'd had a decent time at the Museum of Quidditch, their conversation nothing more than lighthearted bantering, and they'd both been surprised to learn that they supported the same professional team – this was different. What Harry had seen last week went far beyond the realm of casual friendship, and it had been bothering him ever since. If he was wrong – and he could almost hear sixth-year Hermione's voice scolding him for yet again jumping to conclusions when it came to Malfoy – he would gladly drop the subject and move on, but if his suspicions were right…well, the circumstances weren't exactly ideal, were they? Somebody was bound to get hurt, and in this case, the most likely candidate was his best friend.

The clock seemed to move excruciatingly slowly towards the end of the day, Harry's anxiety only increasing as the minute hand crept forward. He absolutely could not hold this in any longer – he had to talk to someone about it, and Ginny would be home tonight. He didn't know if Ginny had seen the same things he had – in fact, she _couldn't_ have seen some of it, as she hadn't been present the afternoon Crookshanks had died – but she might still be able to understand his concerns. After all, she was Hermione's best girlfriend, and she'd seen and heard about just as much of Malfoy's Muggle lessons as Harry had. Ginny had always been rather observant, so perhaps she'd be able to shed a new light on the situation.

At long last, the day's end arrived, and Harry quickly packed up his things. For security reasons, Grimmauld Place was only connected to a few select Floo addresses, and the Ministry was not one of them – Harry had learned during the war that even the most secure public places could be compromised, the Ministry having proven especially vulnerable, and he couldn't risk someone unsavory breaking into his office and having all-too-easy access to his home. He really only used his office fireplace for work-related travel. Therefore, he secured his office and headed for the lifts, taking care to look purposeful so no one would stop him. The last thing he needed right now was for one of his coworkers to stop him for a chat – some of his fellow Aurors could be very longwinded, and Harry had neither the time nor the patience for such a thing just then. Thankfully, luck was on his side, and he caught the first available lift to the lobby and left the building before the evening rush had begun. One turn on the spot later, and Harry had crossed London and stood outside Grimmauld Place.

The smell of something mouthwatering wafted up the stairs from the kitchen, signaling that Kreacher was hard at work on dinner, and Harry relaxed when he saw Ginny's favorite traveling cloak on its peg. So his wife was already home – good. He'd spent the whole day waiting to talk to her and didn't think he could've waited much longer.

"Is that you, love?" a feminine voice called. Seconds later, Ginny's face appeared on the upper landing, and she smiled as she descended the stairs and accepted her husband's embrace.

"Hey, Gin," Harry said, dropping a quick kiss on her lips. "How was training?"

"Not bad, actually," Ginny replied. "Coach was a bit relaxed today – which, to be honest, probably means that the next few days will be brutal, but that's Quidditch for you." Harry chuckled.

"Quidditch doesn't quite feel right if it's not," he agreed. Ginny snorted, no doubt remembering all of Harry's injuries related to the sport.

"It smells like Kreacher's making pasta," she commented then, turning her nose towards the kitchen. "Shall we?"

"We shall?" With as exaggerated a bow as he could manage, Harry offered his arm to his wife, who managed to accept it in spite of a hysterical giggling fit.

Dinner was indeed pasta, complete with meatballs, garlic bread, and Kreacher's own sauce, the recipe of which he would never disclose no matter how fervently Mrs. Weasley begged. For the next several minutes, the only sounds filling the kitchen were those of forks scraping against plates and the occasional hum of pleasure as the young couple enjoyed their meal.

It wasn't until Kreacher was plating dessert – treacle tart, Harry's longtime favorite – when Harry finally decided to broach the subject that had been bothering him all day.

"Gin?" he asked. "Have you, er, noticed anything… _odd_ , lately?" Ginny looked at him inquisitively.

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific, sweetheart," she said. "I saw a purple chicken in Diagon Alley the other day, but somehow, I don't think that's what you meant."

"No." Harry did remember the purple chicken – he hadn't seen it himself, but he'd heard mention of it from a colleague in Experimental Charms. Apparently the culprit was a repeat offender. "No, I was talking about Malfoy, actually."

"Draco?" Ginny asked. "What about him?"

Harry sighed. He'd never been good at discussing stuff like this – granted, he was a bit better than 'emotional-range-of-a-teaspoon' Ron, but not by much. Finally, he decided to just put it out there.

"Have you noticed anything weird going on between Malfoy and Hermione?" Ginny tilted her head, looking thoughtful.

"Well, just a short while ago, the mere thought of them being friends would've qualified as weird," she began. "Granted, I still think it's weird, but it's not as surprising anymore." Ginny paused and met her husband's eyes. "But that's not what you meant either, is it? You think there's something more between them."

Thank Merlin Ginny was perceptive.

"Yeah, I do." Harry sighed again. "I know Hermione's talked a lot about the progress he's made – and I can't disagree with her there; he seemed so at home with her Muggle friends at the Christmas party, and he's even improved his attitude towards his fellow wizards – but I think there's more to it than that. I know they're friends, but…" He made an exasperated noise and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know how to explain it. They just…"

"Click?" Ginny suggested.

"Yes, that's it. They click – in a way that goes beyond friendship, I mean. They have inside jokes, they disappeared for a while at the Christmas party-"

"They were exchanging gifts," Ginny interrupted. At Harry's look, she explained, "Hermione told me – she didn't want to risk her friends questioning either of their gifts, especially if they ended up involving magic."

"Alright, I'll give them that," Harry agreed. "But you didn't see them the afternoon Crooks died, Gin – she was clinging to him like her life depended on it, and he let her. He hugged her back, even, and talked to her, calmed her down…hell, he offered to let her bury Crooks in his back garden!"

"And I remember the burial," Ginny said calmly. "He was there for her then, too." She paused and looked at Harry again. "But don't you think you might just be reading into it too much? I'm not saying you're wrong, love, but you do have a history of overanalyzing when it comes to Draco. Hermione has a huge heart, after all – could it just be that they've accepted one another as close friends? I see where you're coming from, and I admit it is a possible interpretation, but it's not the _only_ one – from what I've seen, she's acting towards Draco just like she would towards you and me. Towards people she trusts unconditionally, people she loves – and we know there are lots of ways to love someone." Harry might have difficulty talking about emotions and the like, but he did understand that last point – as a prime example, he loved Hermione just as much as he loved Ginny, albeit in very different ways.

"It's quite possible that they have feelings for each other extending beyond friendship," Ginny continued softly. "And honestly, I think they'd be good for one another – I'd never have said that a few years ago, but they've both changed a lot since the war, and Draco is one of the few people who can actually understand the extent of Hermione's war experiences, and vice versa. But Draco also isn't a cheater – as obnoxious as he was in school, he wasn't one of those boys who hooked up with anyone in a skirt at Hogwarts; he was faithful to the few girlfriends he had, and from what I know of him now, he's still the same in that regard."

"How do you know what he was like at school?" Harry questioned.

"Girls talk," Ginny said with a shrug. "It's amazing what you learn when you pop into the loo between classes. You wouldn't believe how many girls lamented the fact that the Slytherin prince refused to stray. And of course I saw rather a lot of him during what would've been your seventh year, and I think it's safe to say we were _all_ far too busy staying alive to be preoccupied with notions of romance."

Harry thought about that for a moment. He'd certainly never paid attention to Malfoy's – _Draco's,_ he reminded himself; the bloke was Hermione's friend now, and even Ginny had started calling him by his given name – dating habits in school, but Ginny's claim did make sense, in a weird way. Prat that he was, the blond had been raised a gentleman, after all.

"So I can't see him staying with Cat if he has romantic feelings for Hermione," Ginny concluded, pulling Harry's thoughts back to the present. "If he's with Cat, it's because he likes her – and if it turns out he _did_ like Hermione, I think he'd do the right thing and be honest with Cat."

"You're right, as usual," Harry said, sighing again for what felt like the millionth time. "I don't know Cat all that well, but she's one of Hermione's best Muggle friends, and I definitely know Hermione – if she had even the faintest doubts about Malf- _Draco_ dating one of her friends, she wouldn't have let it happen, so if she's ok with it…well, I'm still working on trusting him, but I trust her with my life."

"See, nothing to worry about," Ginny said soothingly, offering him a reassuring smile. "Everything will work out as it's meant to."

"I just don't want Hermione to get hurt," Harry said. "If it turns out she has unrequited feelings for Draco…well, you remember the birds." Oh, yes, they remembered the birds – and the tears – associated with Ron back in school.

"Everything will be fine," Ginny said again. "Let's not make a mountain out of a molehill if we don't have to. If it turns out there's more there than just friendship, well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, let's just be there for Hermione, help her get through Crookshanks' death, and celebrate how successful her program's been so far. If Draco can make this much progress in such a short amount of time, it's definitely a good sign."

"Hermione's lucky to have you, Gin," Harry said with a smile. "You're a good friend." Ginny smiled back.

"I could say the same to you, my love. She's a lucky girl indeed."

* * *

Hermione sighed, absentmindedly twirling her quill in her fingers as she poured over yet another stack of paperwork. The preparations for her presentation to the Board of Governors were going well, but there were _so_ many forms to fill out, many of which were annoyingly repetitive. Hermione felt she could have been putting her time to better use – preparing more lessons, perhaps, or fleshing out the ones she already had (not that she hadn't already done so, but it never hurt to triple-check, right?) – but this paperwork had to get done. Red tape and bureaucracy were just _so_ much fun…

As she filled in her personal information for what felt like the umpteenth time, Hermione found her thoughts straying yet again to the young man who had made this all possible. Oh, she had no doubt she could've gotten the course together without his help, but in reality, having a test subject – and such a good one, too – was invaluable. Not only did she have the proposed lessons, but she had concrete proof that they worked. It had been what, sixth months at this point? Seven? Much less than a year, at any rate, and already, Draco Malfoy, pureblood extraordinaire, moved in the Muggle world as if he'd belonged there all his life. His name was a powerful one to have in her arsenal – evidence that he, of all people, could adapt like that, could change, could accept and even embrace a new way of thinking, would go a long way towards her ultimate goal.

But was it really just about that goal anymore? If Hermione was being completely honest with herself, no, it wasn't. Oh, yes, she still wanted this class to become reality, to see future generations of Hogwarts students accepting each other, learning about each other's backgrounds, and being poised for success no matter what route they chose to pursue in life. But the project had become even more personal than it already was, if such a thing were possible, because Hermione had gained something valuable from it herself. Not only had she learned a bit more about what it was like to grow up in a pureblooded household, but she'd strengthened her relationship with Draco to the point where he was now one of her closest companions. Sure, they'd talked plenty before beginning the project and had opened up to one another on a variety of subjects, but this was different, Hermione was sure of it. They'd grown as people, they'd grown as friends – and they'd become each other's shoulder to cry on, as it were. Mutual understanding about the war was so hard to come by, and they'd found that in each other. They'd revealed some of their deepest fears to one another – Hermione would never forget their respective breakdowns on Bonfire Night – and they trusted one another implicitly with those vulnerabilities. Draco had trusted Hermione to guide him through the unknown, and in return, she'd trusted him with a goal very near and dear to her heart – he could've easily scoffed at the idea or even sabotaged it, but instead, he'd embraced it and done everything he could to help her succeed.

And then there was Crookshanks – poor Crookshanks. He'd actually liked Draco, a distinction given to very few people indeed, and Draco had seemed to get along with the ginger cat as well. And when Crookshanks had passed, Draco hadn't recoiled at Hermione's need for closeness, but had let her soak his shirt with her tears while he calmed her with his words. She hadn't been able to articulate it very well at the time, but his offer to lay Crooks to rest in Star Cottage's garden meant so much more to her than she could ever express. Most people wouldn't do that for just anyone, and Draco wasn't most people.

Hermione smiled softly as memories of their lessons floated through her mind. Draco examining Muggle coins and the colorful notes…his many curious questions…his fascination with things like the cinema and airplanes…his awe at the British Museum's marvelous collection…his infectious grin when he pulled off a 'Muggle move' with ease…the way his expression softened when…

Oh, dear.

Hermione snapped out of her reverie, her eyes widening in shock at that last thought. She'd only been thinking of the lessons, she swore it!

 _No, you weren't,_ that little voice in her head said.

Hermione groaned and dropped her head to her desk with a _thunk,_ heedless of the fact that she'd probably just face planted into parchment still wet with ink. No, she hadn't just been thinking of the lessons. She missed Draco…and she cared about him. Far more than she probably should. He was no longer just her student, and hadn't been for a long time – he was a friend, a confidante, and…did she want him to be something more?

Oh, hell – she might as well be honest. A part of her _did_ want him to be something more. She knew it was wrong – he was dating one of her best friends, for Godric's sake! – but she couldn't help but think of how much their relationship had changed in just a short time, how much he meant to her now that she'd had the chance to get to know him as a person instead of a rival. She knew it was wrong – the Board of Governors would no doubt invalidate her work with Draco if she were involved with him in such a way – but her heart had always had trouble listening to her head.

Yes, no matter how much Hermione tried to deny it, she knew it was true – she'd gone and done what she'd never thought possible, gone and confirmed her mother's worries from that dinner so long ago.

No matter how much she tried to deny it, Hermione Granger had fallen for Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Draco tapped his knuckles against Cat's door and waited patiently for her to answer. He straightened his scarf and made sure his coat buttons were secure – even though spring was just around the corner, it was still quite cold outside, especially when those fabled March winds picked up.

"Hey, Draco," Cat greeted him as she opened the door. "Come in." Draco complied and pulled her close for a quick kiss, one hand lingering on her cheek even as they broke apart. He didn't think he'd ever understand the confusing array of beauty products women used, be they Muggle or witch, but Cat's skin was so soft.

"I was wondering if you wouldn't mind just staying in today?" Cat asked. "I have plenty for tea." And in fact, Draco could see that the tea service, complete with a little tray of cakes, was already on the coffee table, as if Cat had anticipated this conversation in advance.

"Sure," he said with a shrug. "Weather's not all that great anyway. But is there a reason you wanted to stay in?" Aside from one rainy night when they'd watched a film together, they hadn't really spent too much time in Cat's apartment – Cat much preferred exploring everything that London had to offer, and as it was a great learning experience for Draco as well, he hadn't complained. In fact, they'd had quite a bit of fun, if he was being honest.

"I wanted to talk to you, actually," Cat admitted as she hung Draco's coat on a peg and led the way to the couch. Draco wasn't quite sure what to make of that – in his limited experience, when a girl said she wanted to talk, it usually didn't mean anything good.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, taking a seat on the couch.

"Yes, I'm fine," Cat said quickly, though Draco suspected she was keeping something back. Knowing Cat, though, he would know what it was soon enough, so he didn't pester her. Instead, he accepted a teacup and prepared his tea the way he liked it, nodding in satisfaction when he sipped and found it to his liking.

"Draco, when are you going to admit that you're in love with Hermione?"

Well, Cat certainly didn't beat around the bush. Draco was so surprised he nearly spat out his mouthful of tea and only just managed to escape upending the rest of his cup into his lap. His Seeker reflexes saw the cup safely back to its saucer without so much as a drop sacrificed, and he coughed violently as he forced himself to swallow the hot tea.

"I'm sorry… _what?"_ he asked when he felt fairly confident he could speak again.

"I asked you when you're going to admit you're in love with Hermione," Cat repeated, as calmly as if they'd been discussing the weather. She put down her own teacup, sighed, and added, "Look, Draco, I-"

"Cat, I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Draco cut in. His mother had always told him that it was rude to interrupt, but this time, he felt it was warranted. "I'm not in love with Granger – I wouldn't be dating you if I was, would I?" Cat's expression softened.

"No, you wouldn't," she agreed. "I know you well enough to know that you're not a cheater, you don't stray, you're faithful, however you'd like to put it. But you're lying to yourself, love." Draco knew not to put too much stock in that particular endearment – Cat used it towards everyone, not just him.

"Explain?" Draco asked, and indeed, it was a request and not a command.

"You two have always been on a bit of a different wavelength than the rest of us," Cat began. Draco didn't exactly know what the word 'wavelength' meant, but he understood the general meaning of the sentence well enough. "I saw it right off, when we met at the museum – you weren't exactly the most talkative pair, but you understood each other in a way that didn't require words. You moved as though you could anticipate each other's movements, you seemed to have entire conversations without saying a word, and I could tell that if something bad happened, you'd have each other's backs." Draco wondered if Cat knew just how much that last statement resonated with his war-veteran self.

As if she'd read his thoughts, Cat continued, "I don't know the details – Hermione's told me before that there are some things she won't – or _can't_ – talk about, but I do know that you two faced a bit of trouble at school, something about ongoing gang violence." Once again, Draco had to hide his shock – while 'gang violence' didn't come near the scope of the Second Wizarding War, it was a fairly accurate Muggle-friendly description, and Cat clearly knew and understood far more than he gave her credit for. Oh, he definitely knew she was smart, but he often forgot just what her chosen field meant.

"From what I understand, that violence was a central part of the latter half of your schooling especially," Cat said. "Like I said, I don't know the details, but I _do_ know from my work that the human mind is greatly affected by something like that. You and Hermione went through that violence together, didn't you?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Draco said slowly, still amazed by the turn of events. "We were both right in the thick of things, if that's what you mean."

"And it shows," Cat said. "No, no – it's not obvious, if that's what you're thinking," she added quickly at the look on Draco's face. "No, it's much more subtle – hardly noticeable, if you're not looking for it. But it's something. You both jump at unexpected loud noises, and neither of you will watch war films. You get uncomfortable when we ask about your school, and you have certain subjects you refuse to touch. What's more important, though, is that you clearly understand each other in a way that none of us could ever hope to achieve. You're not only friends, but you share life-changing experiences that few others do, and that's a connection that's far more important than you think."

"But that doesn't mean I'm in love with her," Draco pointed out.

"No, it doesn't – but you can't deny that you care for her," Cat said gently. "I've seen you two interact far too many times to say otherwise. You would do anything for her, and I know she's the same way towards you. What you did for her when Crookshanks died, that's just one example – I could come up with plenty of others, if you really want the proof."

"No, no." Draco was still trying to process everything Cat had said. What stuck out most was her comment about them sharing war experiences, because it strongly reminded him of part of his and Hermione's conversation on Bonfire Night:

 _"How do you explain to someone who didn't experience it just how much you've been through?"_

 _"I really don't know what to say to that, to be honest. We've both been through so many things that even most of our fellow wizards can't understand. The right person will be the one you can trust with not only the secret that you're a wizard, but also with the knowledge that you've gone through some horrible things and have been greatly affected as a result. That person will be the one who accepts you for everything you are."_

For everything you are…

Merlin…he'd taken it as sound advice at the time, but he'd failed to see the other important aspect of Hermione's response. Cat, however, had hit the nail on the head. Draco didn't need to worry about finding someone who understood all the horrors he'd experienced, because he already _had_ someone: Hermione. And if he were being brutally honest, he _did_ care about her, and quite a bit at that – she'd been a friend when most wouldn't even have given him the time of day, had trusted him and had every confidence in his ability to become a better person. The memory of their dance on New Year's Eve resurfaced just then, and though Draco hadn't had a reason to dwell on it much since he'd begun dating Cat, the memory was still as crystal clear is if it had happened yesterday. The way Hermione had felt in his arms…her warm brown eyes shining in the club's dim lighting as she gave him that special smile she reserved only for her closest friends…her infectious laughter…her soft lips brushing against his cheek as the clock struck midnight…

Perhaps he'd cared deeply for her for far longer than he'd even realized.

"Do you see what I mean?" Cat asked softly after several minutes had passed in silence.

"I don't know what to say," Draco confessed, shaking his head slightly.

"You don't have to say anything at all, if you don't want to." Draco looked up at the girl seated across from him.

"How can you be so… _calm_ about this?" he asked. He figured the mere idea that their boyfriend was in love with someone else would leave most girls in tears.

"Because I knew from the start," Cat admitted. Draco's eyes widened.

"You…what?" He'd spent far too much of this conversation being confused.

"I told you, Draco, it was obvious – even if you couldn't see it, I could," Cat said. "You could argue that I was wrong to ask you out, knowing what I did." She met Draco's gaze and smiled softly. "But I don't regret this, any of it – these few months have been absolutely wonderful, and I've truly cherished the chance to get to know you better. You're a good man, Draco Malfoy – a bit strange sometimes, but good."

"I don't understand," Draco said quietly. "And I feel like there's no way to continue this conversation without hurting you, which I really don't want to do."

"I always knew that we weren't meant to last," Cat replied, the soft expression reappearing. "You dating me was just a stepping stone towards where you really belong. Even if you couldn't see it, I knew that you had something special with Hermione, that you could be really great together if you tried. Will I be sad to let you go? I'd be lying if I said no – you're a one of a kind person, Draco, and I doubt anyone could meet you without being affected in some way. But I have – and can still have – something far more valuable, I think: your friendship, if you'll let me."

"I'm not in love with her, Cat," Draco said once more.

"Perhaps not…but you're well on your way. And we both know Hermione's an easy person to love – is the thought that you could get there someday really so far-fetched?"

Draco had no answer to that. Instead, he shook his head and said, "Cat Bradley, what did I ever do to deserve you in my life?"

"Surely the same thing I did to deserve you in mine," Cat replied easily, her smile broadening into her signature cheeky grin. Draco laughed and scooted closer to hug her tightly.

"Thank you, Cat," he whispered. "Thank you for being so honest, and for being far more understanding than I deserve." Cat pulled back and smiled, then leaned up to press a small kiss to his cheek.

"Anytime, Draco. Anytime."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm _so_ sorry for getting this chapter out so late - from Wednesday to Sunday of last week, I traveled a grand total of roughly 2000 miles to attend my sister's high school graduation  & my own 5-year college reunion, & needless to say, it was utterly exhausting. I also ended up rewriting the Cat/Draco segment of this chapter more than once to get it to where I was finally satisfied with it...hopefully it turned out alright & says what I actually wanted it to say. Hoping to get chapter 21 up on Wednesday as usual.**

 **Thank you, as always, for your wonderful reviews, & of course for the follows, faves, & for reading! Thank you also for your patience as these two slowly get their acts together - we're getting there, I promise!**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	21. Everybody Knows It But Them

**A/N: Just a quick reminder that I did upload the last chapter a bit out of whack, so if the last thing you read was Crookshanks' funeral, be sure to go back a chapter before reading this one.**

* * *

Hermione let out a frustrated huff as she failed yet again to secure a particularly unruly curl. Though her hair was no longer the wild, bushy mess it had been pre-puberty, it still took careful management, and her front pieces in particular liked to be stubborn. Finally admitting the hair elastic alone just wasn't going to cut it today, she added a handful of bobby pins and a stretchy athletic headband. Nodding once in satisfaction, Hermione zipped up her sweatshirt, grabbed her bag, and left her flat.

One of the things Hermione had missed most about her home life while away at Hogwarts had been the many backyard football games she'd played with her father. Those games were sacred – with no one to judge her, she could make mistakes, cut loose, be silly, and have fun. Of course, she watched plenty of league games with her dad too, the father-daughter duo eagerly following their favorite teams and players, but the games they played themselves were the best by far. So, when her university friends had started playing pickup games out on the quad, Hermione had eagerly joined in. Perhaps her old self mightn't have been so quick to do so – she wasn't the greatest athlete, after all, and didn't like showing weakness if she could help it – but her post-war self had desperately needed a semblance of normalcy, and those impromptu games had provided just that.

Her friends hadn't intended to stop the games after uni, as it turned out – that morning, Hermione had awoken to a message from Dave noting that it was an 'acceptable' spring day, and to get her lazy arse to the park, pronto. She hadn't stopped laughing for several minutes – if anyone in their group was the _least_ qualified to be called a 'lazy arse', it was her.

Dave had been right about the weather, though, Hermione mused as she carefully slipped into the unsuspecting crowd near her chosen Apparition point. It was still rather chilly, but the sun was out, and that was far more than any of them could've asked for, given Britain's almost predictable unpredictability. They'd be foolish not to take advantage. A short walk later, she entered the park and continued briskly towards the spot where she knew she'd find her friends.

"Morning, sunshine!" Dave said cheerfully as she approached.

"Good morning, Dave," Hermione laughed, accepting his bear hug. She then punched his arm. "So I'm a 'lazy arse', eh? Nobody else is even here!"

"Aw, you knew I was only joking," Dave grinned.

"Sure you were." Hermione couldn't help but return the smile – Dave was such a goof, and his cheerful mood was infectious.

"The usual for goals?" Hermione asked as she crouched down and unzipped her bag. After rummaging around for a moment, she extracted a short stack of orange cones, counting out four before returning the others to the bag. The cones were a little beat, having seen lots of games both at the Grangers' and at school, but the scuff marks were a sign of love.

"Yeah, thanks," Dave replied. He took two of the cones from Hermione, and the two friends turned away from each other and paced off their makeshift field. By the time they'd finished, Chris had arrived and was already juggling a ball he'd pulled from Hermione's bag.

"Hey," Chris greeted them, allowing the ball to drop to the ground and stopping it with his foot. "Lauren's out of town today, but I just heard from Cat – they're on their way."

Hermione nearly missed the ball Chris passed to her. Right…if Cat was coming, that probably meant Draco was, too. She hadn't thought of that.

Hermione hadn't seen Draco since the afternoon of her 'big revelation', but that had arguably just made her feel even more nervous for when she eventually would. The more she thought about it, the more her feelings for him solidified, and the last thing she wanted to do was fall to pieces when he arrived.

 _He's with Cat,_ she reminded herself firmly. That thought was essentially keeping her grounded – Draco had worked too hard for this, and Cat was one of her best friends. She was _not_ going to risk her emotions ruining two more friendships – after all, she'd already almost done that with Ron, and it wasn't an experience she was eager to repeat.

Just then, a short-statured brunette came darting across the field, followed closely by a much taller blond.

 _Here goes nothing,_ Hermione thought. _They're here._

"Hi, everyone!" Cat called, waving in her usually exuberant fashion. She hugged Chris and Hermione and play-wrestled with Dave, making them all laugh. Draco clapped the other two men on the back and then turned to face Hermione. She didn't quite understand the look on his face – for a split second, she could've sworn he looked as uncomfortable as she felt – but it was gone so quickly she convinced herself she'd probably just imagined it.

"Hey," Draco said quietly.

"Hi." Merlin, why was this so damn _awkward?_ "Um…how've you been?"

"Well enough, thanks – busy, though. Classes are tough this term."

"I've been busy too…"

"Whenever you two are done playing awkward catch-up…" Dave said. Hermione felt herself flush scarlet, and Draco muttered something she didn't quite catch but sounded suspiciously like 'sorry'. _What_ was this world coming to?

"We've got uneven teams, unless someone sits out," Cat said then.

"I'll sit out first," Draco volunteered. "You lot have all played together before, so you should get the chance to play first." He didn't say so out loud, of course, but it would also give him a chance to figure out how the game was played, as he was pretty sure he'd never even _seen_ a football before today, never mind used one.

"You're sure?" Dave asked, looking somewhat unconvinced. "We could always just have Chris' team play a man down…" Chris had played on teams all through school and was quite a bit better than everyone else, so they frequently adopted this strategy when they found themselves with uneven numbers.

"Yes." Draco's reply was firm.

"Alright, then." After a quick discussion, they put Hermione and Chris against the cousins for the first game, and Draco took a seat next to Hermione's bag to watch.

The game went as most pickup games do – possession changed almost constantly, and the score was much higher than any organized game would've been. Draco subtly observed and picked up tips, doing his best to make sure he wouldn't make his total lack of experience blatantly obvious. Chris pulled off a lot of moves Draco knew he should probably stay away from, but the rest looked simple enough – control the ball, be aware of your opponents' positions, communicate with your teammates. In fact, when you boiled it down to the basics, football was actually a lot like Quidditch (or any other team sport, for that matter) – the only difference was the equipment involved.

Once he'd gotten the hang of it, Draco allowed his mind to wander a little bit. He'd been thinking long and hard since his conversation with Cat, and he just didn't know what to do about the situation with Hermione. He couldn't exactly just go up to her and ask her out – for one thing, he didn't have that kind of nerve, and for another, Hermione was still under the impression that he was dating Cat. As for that problem, he couldn't just correct that outright, either – if he did, she'd demand an explanation, and how could he possibly explain to Hermione that he was no longer with Cat because Cat knew he had feelings for _her_ without things getting incredibly awkward? He'd puzzled over that one for ages and still hadn't come up with a good answer.

And then, of course, there was the fact that Hermione had never once given Draco any indication that _she_ had feelings for _him._ Their New Year's kiss could easily be brushed off as tradition, and those warm smiles weren't reserved exclusively for him, either. They'd come so far in such a short time, especially given the years of animosity they'd had before now, and putting himself out there like that only to find that she didn't feel the same way would be a huge setback. Oh, he had no doubt they could still be friends, but he knew from experience how hard it was to maintain an easygoing friendship with a person when that person felt something towards you. They could still be friends, but it wouldn't be the same.

"Oi, Draco!" Draco looked up to see Chris waving at him. "Want to switch?" Draco shrugged.

"Sure," he said, standing up and brushing himself off. He jogged over to the others, and Chris offered to sit the next one out – "To give you amateurs a break," he said, to which Cat slugged him – which meant Draco would be playing with Hermione. After a quick water break, the game began.

For someone who'd never touched a football before, Draco thought he did alright. He quickly learned that using the insides of his feet was best – not only did it offer far better control, but kicking with his toes _hurt_ – and his Slytherin side watched Cat and Dave for their respective weaknesses. He even scored a goal or two, and was unable to ignore the swooping sensation in his stomach when Hermione beamed at him after the first ball crossed the cones.

They played for what felt like ages, switching off over and over until they couldn't remember how many games they'd played. As the morning wore on and the sun warmed the earth around them, they started shedding layers, dropping sweatshirts and jackets into a pile in favor of loose t-shirts. The others noticed that Draco wore what appeared to be a tight-fitting, flesh-colored armband over the entirety of his left forearm, and when they finally stopped for another water break, Dave asked him about it.

"What's that, Drake?" he asked, nodding towards Draco's arm. Draco stiffened.

"Draco, it's alright," Hermione said quietly, before Draco could even decide how to respond. "You don't have to wear it."

Draco was torn. He only wore the armband if he absolutely had to, as he hadn't yet found a spell that would make it comfortable (his wand holster, by contrast, was exceptionally comfortable no matter what the situation, but it was just the slightest bit too bulky to be worn for something like this). Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if the discomfort came from the Mark itself somehow deliberately itching because it knew it was being covered. In short, a part of him _really_ wanted to take the damn thing off. Another part of him, though – the bigger part, if he was being honest – wanted to keep it on. There were too many horrible memories associated with what lay underneath the armband, memories that resurfaced all too easily whenever he caught sight of his bare arm.

"Draco, you can take it off," Hermione repeated, a little more confidently this time. "You _should_ take it off." He looked up at her, saw her brown eyes blazing, her chin jutting out proudly…and the thin white scar on her throat, clearly visible above the neckline of her shirt if you knew to look for it. They both had plenty of scars, of course, both physical and otherwise, but Draco knew that particular scar was the worst of the lot, because it was a reminder of one of the most horrific days of Hermione's life. Her screams as Bellatrix tortured her still featured regularly in Draco's nightmares, and he had no doubt that Hermione's own subconscious often relived that night as well. And yet he'd never really noticed before, but she never covered that scar, not even with makeup. And so he made his decision – if she could be that brave like that, then he could, too. Slowly but definitively, he peeled the armband off.

"Never would've guessed you'd be one for tattoos, mate," Dave commented as he looked curiously at Draco's exposed arm. "What is it?" Draco met his gaze.

"A mistake," he said simply. A permanent one – the skull and snake were now a dull grey and would never again be the fierce jet black they were during the war, but neither would they ever fade completely. And that wasn't even considering the associations that went along with the Mark…

"It's not who you are," Hermione corrected him, gently but firmly. Technically, it was fine that he'd called the Mark a mistake, but she felt it was important to make the distinction here. "It doesn't define you…just like mine doesn't define me." She said this last bit quietly enough that only Draco heard her, but that addition made his heart swell, and he swallowed heavily and nodded as his eyes met hers. What had he ever done to deserve _any_ sort of relationship with Hermione Granger?

"They don't define us," he whispered. He grasped her hand and squeezed it. "Thank you, Granger." Hermione just nodded, knowing further words weren't necessary. Then, never once dropping her gaze from his, she reached down, picked up the armband, and with a swift tug, tore it in half.

"Never again," she said firmly. She then looked to the others. "Who wants in on the next game?"

Around lunchtime, the friends decided they'd finally worn themselves out and were in desperate need of food. It was probably a good thing, too – the atmosphere hadn't been quite so laidback after the whole armband thing, because even if Cat, Dave, and Chris didn't know exactly what Draco's tattoo meant, they were all smart enough to know that it was a source of great discomfort. Cat, especially after her talk with Draco, suspected it had to do with her friends' trials at school, and her heart hurt for them, knowing that they'd gone through so much and were clearly still greatly affected by it all. Chris had plans for the afternoon and bid them farewell at the nearest Tube station, and the remaining foursome popped into a nearby pub for plates of fish and chips and a round of drinks. It was when Hermione and Draco had both excused themselves to the restrooms that Cat sighed sadly and turned to Dave.

"When are they going to figure it out?" she asked her cousin. Dave didn't have to ask what she meant – he had, after all, asked Draco about his thoughts on Hermione way back at New Year's.

"Dunno," he said with a shrug. "It seems like everybody knows it but them." He paused for a moment as if considering his next thought. "So you really broke it off, then?"

"How could I not?" Cat said, looking up at him. "It wasn't meant to last, and I couldn't keep going on keeping Hermione in the dark like that."

"She still is in the dark," Dave pointed out. "Unless you've told her that you two broke up?" Cat shook her head.

"No, I haven't – it's not exactly something you can just drop into a conversation, is it?" Dave slid an arm around her and gave her a squeeze – Cat might've known her relationship with Draco had an expiration date, but Dave could tell she was still a little upset about it. As much as she annoyed him sometimes, Cat was a great girl, his family, and he would always be there for her.

"Thanks, coz," Cat said, offering him a smile. "You're the best, you know that?"

"As are you – those two are lucky they have you."

"Yes, well – when will they realize how lucky they are to have _each other?"_

Dave had no answer to that.

* * *

 **A/N 2.0: Oh, those two...it wouldn't be Dramione if everything went smoothly, now, would it? Next chapter should be a big one, though, if all goes according to plan...**

 **Thank you for all your kind words, & of course for follows/faves/reading in general!**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	22. The Board of Governors

Much too soon for Hermione's liking, the day of her meeting with the Board of Governors arrived. She knew she was prepared, of course – her notes were just as meticulous as those she'd taken during her classes at Hogwarts, and she and Professor McGonagall had gone over everything with a fine-toothed comb – but she was still nervous. This project meant so much to her personally, and she would be devastated if the board decided to turn down her proposal.

Hermione dressed very carefully that morning, ensuring she looked polished and professional, and gathered her materials into the leather satchel Harry had given her for her birthday. After one last glance at her mantel clock, she squared her shoulders, locked up her flat, and walked briskly to the closest Apparition point. In no time at all, she found herself outside the entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Once through the queue, she made her way to the lifts and to her final destination.

Hermione was exceptionally nervous because this was an open meeting, meaning that anyone interested in her project was welcome to attend. For most day-to-day issues, the Board of Governors met alone, but in the case of major items such as curriculum overhaul, the general public had a right to hear proposals before they passed, as well as to voice their opinions on the issues at hand. A basic outline of Hermione's idea had circulated in the _Daily Prophet_ and several other major publications, giving the public time to read up on things before the meeting, and Hermione would be very surprised if the meeting room wasn't full.

After her extensive chats with Professor McGonagall, Hermione was feeling fairly confident about her chances with the board itself, but the audience was a wild card, an unknown. What would she do if any staunch supporters of pureblood culture spoke up? The chances of that happening were slim – after the war, people were very careful to say such things in case they were labeled Death Eater sympathizers or the like – but this was education. If her proposal passed, all Hogwarts students would be affected whether their parents liked it or not – and some parents were bound to be against the idea. After a great deal of worrying, Hermione had resigned herself to the fact that there was nothing she could do – people had their opinions, and that was that. All she could do was give the best presentation possible and think positive thoughts from there.

Due to the potential interest in the project, the meeting was being held in one of the larger courtrooms, ensuring plenty of available seating. Hermione, true to her nature, was early, and it gave her a chance to introduce herself to the board members and to chat with Professor McGonagall before the meeting officially began.

"You will be fine, Miss Granger," the elder witch assured her, her sharp observational skills noticing Hermione's slight trembling. "You are as prepared as anyone can hope to be, and you bring a strong argument to the table. You have solid evidence, extensive research…they would be foolish to turn you down."

"And the audience?" Hermione felt like a child voicing the question, but it really was bothering her much more than she was allowing to show through.

"They will have their opinions, yes," Professor McGonagall acquiesced. "But you have always been good at rising above the public's ridiculous drivel." The headmistress' frank response and unrelenting support made Hermione smile, and she felt much better as she took her seat and began organizing her notes in preparation.

As the clock crept closer to the appointed time, the stands began slowly to fill with spectators, some of whom Hermione recognized and many she didn't. She smiled softly when she caught sight of Harry and Ginny in the crowd – both had already promised her they would attend, but seeing their faces only made her feel that much better – and her stomach flip-flopped when she saw a very familiar platinum blond just a few seats away. Just like Harry and Ginny, Draco had promised to be there, but seeing him in person…he'd supported her from the start, he was her primary case study, and even though they hadn't seen much of one another recently, he'd still made the time to be here for her today. She tried not to dwell on the thought too much, given her recent revelations regarding her feelings for him, but feelings or not, his presence still calmed her in a way very few others could've done. He looked up then from the pamphlet he'd been reading – probably the overview of her proposal, if she had to guess – and gave her an encouraging nod and a wink. She grinned back, suddenly feeling ready to take on the world.

"If everyone could please take their seats, then we'll begin." The magically magnified voice of Christopher Stearns, one of the board members, echoed throughout the room. The audience quickly scrambled to find seats and settled in to listen.

"Thank you. To all our guests, welcome. The first item on our agenda this morning is, I've no doubt, the reason most of you are here. Proposals to alter the Hogwarts curriculum are rare, but I think we're all quite interested in what our guest speaker has to say. Without further ado, I would like to introduce Miss Hermione Jean Granger." Hermione stood shakily, nodding towards those in the audience who'd applauded at the mention of her name.

"Thank you, Governor Stearns," she began. "It is a pleasure to be here today. I do indeed have a curriculum proposal, and I hope those of you already familiar with the idea will forgive me a brief overview as I bring everyone up to speed." Hermione's voice was a bit unsure at first, but it steadied as she spoke and gained confidence.

"As most of you probably know, I am a Muggle-born," Hermione began. "I did my best to not let that be a prominent defining factor of who I was during my Hogwarts career, but in some cases, it couldn't be helped. I boarded the Hogwarts Express on my first day knowing nothing of the Wizarding world other than what I'd learned when Professor McGonagall visited my family home to explain my magical abilities to my parents and myself. I'd read my school books back-to-front several times – I learnt them by heart, actually – but I quickly learned that there was a lot I _couldn't_ learn from books, no matter how hard I tried. I could immerse myself in the spells and potions, but Wizarding culture was another thing entirely. My schoolmates sneered at my presence within the castle, hurled slurs my way and intimated that I had no place amongst them – and in a way, they were right.

"While I could keep up with the best of them magically, I was almost completely ignorant culturally. I knew nothing of the little things that make the Wizarding world what it is – I hadn't grown up in a Wizarding household, and so I had no reason to know about things like Quidditch, Galleons, or even Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. I thought unicorns were the stuff of fairytales, and I'd never sent a letter via owl – it had never occurred to me even to try. Oh, I definitely learned from my friends as time went on, but there are still plenty of things I don't know, and I continue to learn about Wizarding culture even today. I came into this world at an eleven years' disadvantage, and while I can't feasibly make up that lost ground completely, I can still try to level the playing field a bit."

"And that is the purpose of your proposal?" Aloysia Morgenstern, the lone witch on the board, asked.

"Yes ma'am. What I propose is a class on cultural integration. However, the proposal goes both ways. As ignorant as I was in the ways of the Wizarding world, many of my classmates were equally oblivious of Muggle customs. Even one of my closest friends, whose father worked with Muggle objects for a living, wouldn't have survived ten minutes on his own in the Muggle world. And so I propose a class that teaches _both_ cultures, leaving students comfortable no matter in which world they find themselves."

"Why both cultures?" another board member questioned. "I can understand an integration class for those raised in Muggle households so that those students may better understand their new world, but why the reverse?" Hermione nodded, having anticipated and prepared for this question.

"I understand your confusion," she said. "Why, indeed, would someone from a Wizarding background need to be educated in the ways of Muggles? Aren't they already cemented in their own culture? But what if the day comes when that is no longer the case? What if a student finds himself working with Muggles for a living, or for a company that does business in both worlds? Our Minister works closely with the Muggle Prime Minister on a regular basis, both to ensure the continued secrecy of our world and to keep both worlds safe – wouldn't you feel more comfortable knowing that our Minister can competently complete those interactions? Those are, of course, just a few answers to your question, sir, but we cannot deny that the possibility is there."

"And what of those of us who take pride in our heritage, who have never interacted with Muggles before and have no interest in changing that?" someone drawled from the audience. There it was – someone openly against the proposal. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but someone else beat her to it.

"I believe I can answer that." All heads turned to Draco Malfoy, who had stood in his seat.

"You are agreeable to this, Miss Granger?" Christopher Stearns asked. Hermione was a bit stunned that Draco had actually stood up to speak – she had neither expected nor asked him to do so – but she nodded nonetheless.

"Very well – the floor is yours, Mr. Malfoy."

"Thank you, sir. It's a bit pointless to say so, as I'm sure most of you already know who I am, but my name is Draco Malfoy. My family has prided ourselves for generations on our 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' status, having minimal interactions with Muggle-borns only as necessary, and avoiding Muggles at all costs. I attended Hogwarts at the same time as Miss Granger here, and I will readily admit that I was one of the most vocal in my distaste for her presence and that of our classmates with similar heritage. No matter how many times she topped the class in exams, no matter how many times she executed a spell flawlessly or perfected a potion on her first attempt, I still maintained the opinion that she had no place in the Wizarding world.

"But war does funny things to people," Draco continued. "I learned some very harsh lessons in my later teen years, most prominent among them that my views on blood prejudice were more than misguided – they were wrong. I saw far too many people bleed throughout the course of the war, and I can tell you that their blood all ran just as red as mine. And after the war, I've seen just as well as the rest of you the disastrous effect the war had on our world. I would like to mention Healer Janessa Constantine's recent findings regarding the alarmingly low survival rates amongst pureblood infants – if those of us who are left insist on maintaining old prejudices, there soon won't be any of us left. I'm not saying that we all need to go out and marry Muggles, but we need to at least be open to the idea of cross-cultural interaction.

"And that's where Miss Granger's proposal comes in. If you'll take another look at the pamphlet outlining today's meeting, you'll see that it mentions evidence, a case study – that case study was me. I volunteered to trial the lessons, to immerse myself in Muggle culture – and quite honestly, I think I'm all the richer for it."

Chatter immediately erupted from the gallery at Draco's words, and the Board of Governors had to call the room to order before proceeding. The crowd asked Draco dozens of questions, asking him to elaborate on what he meant and to talk about his experiences, and he answered them all. He talked at length of the things he'd learned under Hermione's tutelage, of the amazing places he'd been and how distressing it was that so many of his peers remained ignorant of the Muggles' accomplishments. He spoke of learning to play football in the park and watching films, of riding in a car and celebrating holidays in Muggle fashion. He talked about his Potions research and noted several different ways magical hospitals could benefit from Muggle medical techniques and practices (Hermione was quite surprised at that bit – they hadn't really talked medicine at all; Draco must've looked into that on his own). Draco also mentioned his new friends, emphasizing that aside from their lack of magic, they really were no different than he, and that he was honored to know them. Throughout his speech, Hermione beamed, unable to keep the elated expression off her face as Draco sang the praises of her program.

"In conclusion, I firmly support Miss Granger's proposal," Draco said. "The lessons I trialed proved that there is so much to learn on both sides of the spectrum, and I wholeheartedly believe that our children will be all the richer for having those experiences and knowledge." At the front of the room, Hermione had to dry her eyes when he'd finished – already overcome with emotion as she was, his final words had brought her to tears.

"That was perhaps the most unexpected testimony this board has ever heard, Mr. Malfoy," one of the board members said once Draco had finished speaking. Draco just shrugged.

"Unexpected, yes, but you have my word as a wizard that I spoke naught but the truth," he replied. Throughout the room, little murmurs of side conversation had broken out as the spectators mulled over Draco's words and weighed them against their own beliefs.

"Duly noted," the elder wizard said.

After a brief statement from Professor McGonagall, the board called the room to attention.

"We have heard from our speakers, as well as those of you who wished to add your own thoughts, and we now call this meeting to a close. You are all welcome to return here in three days' time, when we will give our final decision on Miss Granger's proposal."

Hermione sank into her chair as the sounds of dozens of feet rang throughout the room. She'd done it – she'd convinced the board to consider her proposal, to discuss and send it to a vote. The next three days would be agony as she waited for the final verdict, but so far, the progress was positive.

"Hermione!" Hermione looked up to see Harry and Ginny beaming back at her.

"You were brilliant!" Harry said, coming around the table to scoop her up into a hug. Hermione enthusiastically returned the embrace, smiling so widely her face almost hurt.

"I got it to a vote!" she said. "I still have to wait to hear the final decision, but we got the vote!"

"It'll pass," said Ginny confidently. "You were amazing, and Draco's testimony was perfect."

"Where is Draco?" Hermione asked, her face falling a little as she scanned the room and didn't see the telltale platinum hair.

"He had to leave – this meeting ran a lot longer than he was anticipating, and he has a major exam in just over an hour," Ginny explained. "He told me before he left, wanted to make sure you knew he would've stayed if he could." Hermione's stomach flip-flopped again, just as it had done at the beginning when she'd first noticed his presence – he'd taken the time to let Ginny know why he was leaving so that she, Hermione, wouldn't worry. As if she wasn't already head over heels for him…

"How about some lunch?" Harry suggested. Hermione brought her thoughts back down to earth and turned to look quizzically at her friend.

"Lunch?" she repeated. "But don't you have to go to work?" Harry chuckled.

"Hermione, my best friend whom I love more than life itself was presenting something very near and dear to her heart today," he said. "Do you really think I didn't take the whole day off to celebrate with her afterwards?" Hermione's heart warmed and her eyes watered as she threw her arms around him in another fierce hug.

"Harry James Potter, what would I do without you?" she murmured.

"Unfortunately, I don't have an appropriately witty response to that question yet," Harry joked. "When I do come up with one, I'll let you know."

"As much as I'd like to join you, I do have work this afternoon," Ginny said. "Training session followed by dinner with the team, so I'm going to have to skip lunch. But we'll talk soon, yeah? And I'll definitely be there when the board gives their decision."

"You two are wonderful, you really are," Hermione said, beaming at both of them.

"Oh, I know." Ginny grinned and winked. "Keep this one in line for me, would you? I don't really want tomorrow's headlines to be something about how he's…oh, I dunno…broken out of Gringotts, or something." Another wink.

"No promises," Hermione replied, returning the wink and just barely holding back her laughter.

* * *

Hermione didn't put much – alright, _any_ – stock in Divination, but her prediction certainly held true this time: the next few days were _horrible._ She did her best to keep herself occupied, but it was hard when the vast majority of her work had centered around the proposal in the first place, and though Cat, Heather, and Lauren were supportive of her and let her vent her frustrations, there was only so much they could take before they insisted that Hermione drop the subject for a while and focus her attention elsewhere.

"Everything will fall into place," Cat assured her as she signaled the bartender for a refill. Hermione had told her friends all she could about her project without getting into the magical aspects of it, and they'd reassured her over drinks that the board couldn't possibly say no. Of course, they didn't – and couldn't – understand the myriad reasons why the board _could_ say no, but the other girls wouldn't hear another word of complaint or worry from their curly-haired friend and quickly turned the conversation to other topics.

Finally, just when Hermione was about ready to scream in frustration, the appointed day arrived. Just as before, she dressed carefully, although she was so frazzled that she was sure her hair, at least, wasn't nearly as neat as it had been before the first meeting. After gathering up her things – with quite a bit of help from Heather, who, bless her heart, didn't have to work until later and made sure Hermione kept a level head – Hermione left for the Ministry. Her feet carried her almost by rote down to the allotted courtroom – she was quite distracted and narrowly avoided several encounters with either walls or other people as a result – and she was rather relieved to find the courtroom empty upon her arrival. While she wished to greet the board members as before, she appreciated the extra minute to clear her head, to take some deep breaths without anyone wondering after her sanity.

The courtroom began to fill with people interested in hearing the verdict. Professor McGonagall took her seat next to Hermione, and Harry, Ginny, and Draco chose seats in the front row. Hermione was surprised but thrilled to see some of Draco's Slytherin friends there as well – she recognized Theodore Nott from school, and Astoria was there, looking exhausted. Hermione guessed the younger witch had probably just come off a late shift at St. Mungo's and felt a surge of affection for the girl who was missing precious rest time just to be there for her friend.

Unlike before, the Board of Governors did not appear until everyone else was seated. The courtroom immediately quieted upon the board's entrance, and Hermione noted that they looked both professional and intimidating – each wore fine robes in a deep shade of purple, the Hogwarts crest embroidered in shining silver thread upon the breast, and carried a folder of chocolate leather, the latter presumably holding the documents pertaining to the proposal.

"The Hogwarts Board of Governors would like to declare this meeting officially open." The speaker was Christopher Stearns, the same wizard who had done most of the talking during the first meeting.

"We are here today to discuss a curriculum change proposed by Miss Hermione Jean Granger, Order of Merlin, First Class." Hermione blushed at the mention of her title – she'd never liked that sort of attention, but if the board was going for formalities, they would use it whether she liked it or not.

"The proposal is thus: a new class at Hogwarts, begun in the first term of the first year, exposing students to the integral aspects of Muggle and Wizarding cultures, with the goal of comfortable immersion in either world upon graduation." Governor Stearns continued to speak at length about the proposal – some of his remarks were new, but most of his speech was merely a reiteration of everything that had been said three days prior, and Hermione had to try very hard not to fidget. As much as she felt like one inside, it would not do to appear as nothing more than an impatient child, not now when everything was so important.

"And so, the Hogwarts Board of Governors would like to say…" Governor Stearns paused and smiled at Hermione. "Congratulations, Miss Granger. The board has accepted your proposal, and we will be looking to implement the class beginning in September 2004, giving us roughly eighteen months to hire an instructor and finalize the curriculum. We look forward to working with you."

The room's occupants erupted with excited chatter, many people who'd openly supported Hermione's cause cheering as Governor Stearns gave the verdict – but Hermione heard none of it. The instant Governor Stearns had officially given her project the green light, her jaw had dropped for just a fraction of a second before she'd buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. Decorum could hang – her dream was becoming reality.

"Hermione!" Hermione looked up to see Harry vault the barrier between the spectators' benches and the courtroom floor, running towards her as face as his legs could carry him. He swept her up and spun her around, Hermione laughing through her tears.

"You did it, Hermione, you did it! I knew you would!" Harry cried, kissing her forehead before crushing her to his chest once more. Beside him, Ginny was doing a victory dance not unlike the one she, Fred, and George had done after Harry's Ministry hearing in fifth year, and Astoria was beaming, also clearly pleased with the outcome.

"I hope we can get these lessons offered to adults as well," Astoria said. "I'll be first in line to sign up."

"Second!" Ginny joked. "I claimed that first-place spot long ago, Tori!" Astoria chuckled.

"Alright, second, then," she conceded. "But I'll be _right_ behind Mrs. Potter here, you can guarantee that!"

"I can't believe it!" Hermione kept saying, the tears still freely running down her cheeks. "I can't believe it's really happening!"

"Believe it, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, coming up behind her mentee and offering her a rare smile. "You've worked extremely hard for this, and you absolutely deserve the recognition – you're going to improve the lives of many generations of Hogwarts students, I'm absolutely sure of it." Hermione sobbed even harder and threw her arms around the older witch, who looked stunned for but a moment before reciprocating the hug.

"Where's Draco?" Hermione asked once she'd released her professor and calmed down a bit.

"He's waiting for you out in the hall," Harry replied. "I think he wanted to give you some time with your admirers first."

"But he was instrumental in all of this!" Hermione protested. "He should be in here too!"

"So go talk to him," Harry urged her. "You're right, of course – he absolutely should be in here with you."

"I'm going to go find him, then," Hermione said resolutely. Without another word, she marched out of the courtroom.

The hallway outside the courtrooms was deserted save for the lone blond leaning against the wall some twenty feet away from their room's entrance. Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the sight of him standing there, at the victorious grin slowly spreading across his handsome features. Everything she'd been planning to say disappeared in that moment, drowned out by an intense feeling of euphoria, and she did the only thing she could think of: without stopping to question it, Hermione ran down the corridor, threw her arms around Draco's neck, and kissed him.

* * *

 **A/N: Yup, that just happened. Next chapter should be very interesting!**

 **I based the board meeting off my recollections of school board meetings - which are, by & large, not very interesting, but the public is welcome to attend.**

 **Thank you, as always, for all your support of this story! Love you all!**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	23. Finding Hermione

For a moment, Draco froze, too stunned by Hermione's actions to even move. Never in even his wildest dreams had he ever imagined this happening, and a large part of him remained convinced that it really _was_ a dream. The real Hermione wouldn't have done something like this…would she?

That frozen state lasted for all of point-two seconds before his brain caught up with him.

 _Of course it's real, you idiot. What are you waiting for? Kiss her back!_

And so he did. Tentatively at first, and then with a bit more confidence, Draco began moving his mouth against Hermione's, marveling at how soft her lips were and how seemingly perfect they felt against his own. He deliberately kept the kiss light and chaste – a full-on snogging session in the middle of the Ministry hallway probably wasn't the best idea, no matter how much he longed to twist his fingers into Hermione's curls and never let her go – but it was still sweet, and meaningful, and…

Hermione stopped kissing him then and pushed against his chest.

"Granger?" Draco stepped back and rested his hands carefully on her shoulders, not quite knowing what was wrong. Those big brown eyes were partially glazed over, as if Hermione wasn't all there.

"Granger? Are you alright?"

Still no response.

"Hermione?"

That did it. Hermione blinked once, her focus returning, and stared up at Draco in what was unmistakably horror.

"No…" Hermione took a step backwards, pressing one hand to her lips as if she couldn't believe what she'd just done. "Oh, God, no…" Her eyes shone with unshed tears, and with an expression like a frightened animal, she turned tail and bolted.

"Hermione!" But it was too late – Hermione was gone. Resisting the urge to hit something, Draco instead grabbed at his hair and let out a groan of frustration. The groan only deepened when he turned back towards the courtroom door and realized he wasn't alone. Harry Potter stood in the doorframe, his expression serious and his wand drawn.

"Shite," Draco muttered to himself. Raising his voice so the other man could hear, he added, "How long have you been standing there, Potter?"

"Long enough," Harry replied, his voice remarkably steady given the circumstances. Draco knew better than to underestimate him, though, especially not when Hermione was involved.

"You're going to fix this," Harry said then.

"Sorry?"

"I said, you're going to fix this," Harry repeated firmly. "Hermione just kissed someone who's seeing one of her best mates – she probably feels awful right now, especially since I suspect she actually does feel something for you." Draco's heart soared at the idea that Hermione might care for him like he did for her, but he pushed that feeling aside for the moment and focused on the other part of Harry's statement.

"I'm not, though," he said. "Not seeing Cat, that is – we split up weeks ago." Harry's eyes flashed at Draco's admission.

"And I'm guessing Hermione doesn't know? Why have you kept her in the dark, Malfoy?" he demanded.

"Because it's not exactly something you can slip into normal conversation, is it?" Draco shot back. "I couldn't just tell her we'd ended things, she'd want to know why!"

"And why did you?" Harry pressed.

"I think you know why," Draco said, more than a little annoyed that the Boy-Who-Lived was still so damn nosy. "That kiss wasn't one-sided, you know."

"So Ginny was right," Harry mused. "You do care about her."

"What?" What did Ginny have to do with anything?

"Never mind." Harry paused and locked eyes with Draco, brilliant emerald fixed on steely grey.

"You're going to fix this, Malfoy," he said, his voice quiet but deadly serious. "You're going to find Hermione, and you're going to make things right – she deserves nothing less. I don't know what it is exactly that she sees in you, but I can see that you've at least changed since we were at school, so I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Hurt her again, though, and I'll make that Bat-Bogey Hex my wife hit you with back in fifth year seem tame. Understood?"

"Understood," Draco said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the sheer Gryffindor-ness of it all. He did understand where Harry was coming from, though – Draco would've done the same if the girl in question had been Daphne or Astoria, no doubt about it. "I refuse to say how I feel about Hermione when I haven't talked to her about it, but rest assured that I won't hurt her anymore, not if I can help it."

"See that it stays that way." Harry finally dropped his wand and checked his watch.

"I have to get going," he said. "Robards was kind enough to give me time to attend these meetings, but now that they're over, I've got to get back to work." He sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. "Thanks, Malfoy." Draco looked up, startled.

"For what?" he asked.

"For helping Hermione with this proposal," Harry explained. "I know better than most how long and how hard she's worked to make her dream come true, and I know you were a big part of that."

"It was worth it," Draco said quietly. He didn't really want to say any more than that, and thankfully, he didn't have to, as Harry nodded in apparent understanding.

"Good…now get out of here. Find Hermione, and make things right." With one last nod, Harry turned and walked swiftly back into the courtroom, no doubt to say goodbye to Ginny and the others before returning to work.

Draco leaned back against the wall and sighed heavily. All things considered, that unexpected chat hadn't gone so badly – Potter could've hexed him to pieces and Draco wouldn't have been able to blame him for it. But now he had a much bigger problem: where in Merlin's name had Hermione gone?

* * *

Hermione had run towards the lifts as fast as she could, unable to even think of looking back lest she catch sight of Draco – she knew she wouldn't have been able to control herself if she had. But that was just it, wasn't it? She'd already lost control – she'd _kissed_ him, for Merlin's sake! Kissed someone who was dating one of her closest friends. Kissed someone for whom she cared deeply even though she knew damn well he didn't feel the same. Hermione had always prided herself on her intelligence – how could she have done something so _stupid?_ Some people might blame the heat of the moment, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to do that. It was an excuse, and a lame one at that. No, she took full responsibility for what she'd done…but that didn't mean she was happy about it. On top of that, that fabled Gryffindor courage had deserted her, and she'd run from the scene as if her life depended on it.

Hermione had run, ignoring the protests from Ministry workers as she hastened towards the fireplaces at the far end of the atrium, and had taken the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron without a second thought. From there, she'd retreated into the pub's back courtyard and Disapparated. Her destination? The one place she knew Draco wouldn't be able to follow: her parents' house.

And so there she was, wrapped up from head to toe in a fuzzy blanket she'd pulled off the back of the sofa, curled up in an armchair and staring blankly into space. The full scope of the situation had certainly caught up to her by that point, but she couldn't find it in her to react to any of it. No one emotion seemed appropriate, could encompass the mass of confusing things she was feeling at the moment, and so she just sat. She wasn't quite sure when her parents would be home, but she did know that this was where she wanted to be – even though she was technically an adult, Hermione really just wanted her mum and dad. A sharp pang shot through her as she thought about how much a cuddle with Crookshanks would've eased her frazzled nerves just then – he'd always been so attune with her needs and had provided many much-needed snuggles in the past.

Sometime later – Hermione honestly wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there staring at nothing – the front door opened, and she heard two sets of feet against the hard floor of the front entryway as her parents discarded their outerwear and prepared to relax after an eventful day at the office.

"Hermione!" her mother exclaimed as she walked into the living room. "This is a surprise – we weren't expecting you."

"Hi, Mum." It was the tone of voice that made Margaret Granger pause. Her daughter sounded so…defeated.

"Hermione? Are you alright, darling?" Hermione looked up at her mother, her eyes wide and wet, and promptly burst into tears, noisy, messy sobs that wracked her whole body.

"Goodness, sweetheart, whatever is the matter?" her father asked, rushing to her side. He immediately scooped Hermione up into his arms and brought her to the sofa, cradling her on his lap just as he used to do when she was a small child. He gently rocked her back and forth while murmuring, "There, there, love, it's alright. Please don't cry, sweetheart. Shh…" He spoke quietly to her, every comforting thought he could think of, but Hermione continued to cry for several more minutes before her tears finally began to slow and her breathing returned to normal.

"There we are," John Granger said softly, brushing a soothing hand through his daughter's hair. "Tell dear old dad what's wrong, yeah?" Hermione slowly raised her head, her parents trying not to show their alarm when they saw her face – her eyes were puffy and red, her nose was running, and her lips were trembling.

"Y-you were r-r-right, Mum," Hermione managed to say. "Y-you were r-r-right."

"About what, darling?" her mother asked. She sat beside her husband on the sofa, her daughter's hand clutched tightly in her own.

"I c-c-care too much," Hermione replied. She let out a whimper, then proceeded to spill the whole sorry tale. Though she'd kept her parents up to date on her project during their monthly dinners, she'd not once discussed her growing affections, friendly and otherwise, towards Draco. It all came out now, everything from Christmas gifts and football to the board's decision and the kiss they'd shared outside the courtroom. As painful as it was to rehash everything, Hermione didn't dare stop talking until she'd finished – she knew that if she stopped, she'd start crying again. And indeed, by the time she'd reached the last few hours, she was sniffling like mad and unable to get the words out without stuttering.

"I d-did exactly wh-wh-what you t-t-t-told me n-n-not to," Hermione finished. The tears returned, and she buried her face in her father's shoulder.

"Oh, Hermione." Her mother scooted closer and wrapped her arms around her, the three Grangers sitting all together in a tangle of limbs. The elder Grangers looked at one another over their daughter's head, their eyes expressing how much they wished they could help. Neither said anything, though, because there was nothing to say. Consoling words wouldn't ease the pain of a broken heart.

* * *

As soon as Harry was gone, Draco turned and raced back towards the lifts, not caring if anyone saw his normally composed self rushing through the Ministry like a man possessed. He didn't bother trying to follow Hermione directly – that she'd left the Ministry via Floo was the most likely conclusion, as it was by far the fastest method of departure during off-peak hours, but even though the Ministry's Floo records could be traced, she would've had to have gone somewhere generic, given her Muggle home address. And even if he did follow to wherever she'd gone, there was no tracing her final destination from there – and even if there was, Hermione was called 'the brightest witch of her age' for a reason. She wouldn't have gone anywhere he could easily follow. Since attempting to follow Hermione was out, Draco instead decided to get in touch with someone who might be able to help him find her. As soon as he left the Ministry, Draco pulled out his mobile and sent Cat a message: _On my way over, hoping to talk. It's urgent._ He then slipped the device back into his pocket and hurried towards the nearest Tube station, thanking his lucky stars he'd worn Muggle clothing that day and didn't have to waste precious time going home to change. He barely refrained from tapping his foot as he waited for his train to arrive even though the delay was a mere two minutes, and he watched the on-board map like a hawk, mentally counting down the remaining stops as the train barreled along. After a slight pause upon exiting the station to make sure he'd come out on the right street, he briskly walked the short distance to Cat's building and trotted up the stairs.

Though he'd done his best to arrive quickly, Draco couldn't control the schedules of those around him (not if he didn't want to get himself arrested, at any rate), and so it was quite some time before Cat was able to meet with him.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she said as she opened her door and ushered him inside. "We're really busy today, so I can't stay long…what's going on?"

"I did something stupid," Draco replied, and he quickly launched into his story, telling Cat all about what had happened over the course of the last week.

"You did do something stupid," Cat agreed once Draco had finished.

"I know – I feel terrible about not telling her, and now she's run off because she thinks she tried to steal your boyfriend." Draco shook his head. "I have to talk to her, Cat – I have to talk to her and put things right, but I haven't the faintest idea where to find her."

"And you think I'll be able to tell you where she is?" Cat asked, her head tilted to one side in that way she so often did. In retrospect, it was a fair question – what if Hermione had gone somewhere magical? Apparition could've taken her virtually anywhere in the country, and Cat would be just as in the dark as Draco.

"You're one of her best friends," Draco said. "If there was a chance anyone might know where to find her, I thought it was safe to guess you'd be that person."

"It just so happens you're in luck," Cat told him. "When Hermione's upset, she usually goes to her parents' place – something about being closer to them." That, Draco understood – when they'd first started acting as each other's shoulders to cry on, so to speak, Hermione had told him of what she'd done to her parents during the war. In light of mending that still-fragile relationship, it made sense that she would go to her parents for comfort over anyone else. Then his face fell as he considered the obvious.

"I don't know where Hermione's parents live," he said. He didn't mention that he had no way of getting there even if he did – what if the Grangers lived in a remote area like he did? As Cat had never been to Draco's home, he'd never had to explain to her why he didn't own a car when he essentially lived in the middle of nowhere, but things could get hairy if he brought that up now. Apparating to an unknown location, especially a Muggle one, was a terrible idea, so Muggle transport was his only option…

"I've been to the Grangers' place before," Cat said. "If you're willing to wait, I can go with you when my shift ends." Draco quickly agreed – the solution was far from ideal, but it was much better than the alternatives. If by some chance, Cat was wrong and Hermione hadn't gone to her parents', at least he'd have someone with him who knew the elder Grangers. Showing up alone and finding out that the curly-haired witch wasn't there would be extremely awkward, especially if her parents weren't aware that anything was wrong.

The hours remaining until Cat finished work crawled by but finally, Cat put away her things and motioned for Draco to follow. They chatted idly as they waited for their train, discussing just what Draco should say to Hermione – and her parents – when they arrived. The journey was a bit lengthy but not terribly so, for which Draco was grateful – his stomach had been tying itself in knots ever since Hermione had left him that morning.

After disembarking, it was just a short walk from the train station to the neighborhood where Hermione's parents lived. In spite of the situation, Draco couldn't help but smile softly at the little things that made the houses look lived in and loved – a child's toy on a lawn, a well-tended flower bed, a fluffy dog snoozing in the sun while a pair of teenagers read beside it. It looked like a nice place to grow up. The Grangers' house was neat and tidy, with pretty flowers blooming along the house's front, and Draco followed Cat up to the front door, where Cat rang the bell. A woman who greatly resembled Hermione answered the door.

"Hi, Dr. Granger," Cat said. "Is Hermione home? We'd like to see her, if that's alright."

* * *

 **A/N: And now it's finally time for these two to talk...we'll see what happens!**

 **Thank you all for your support of this story. You guys are the best.**

 **JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R, & enjoy! :)**


	24. Making Things Right

Hermione's mother looked confused for but a moment before she nodded in response to Cat's question.

"Hello, Cat," she said. "Yes, Hermione's here – but she's not exactly…"

"We know she's upset," Cat interrupted gently. "We're here to make things right." Dr. Granger nodded again, then turned her attention to Draco.

"I don't believe we've met," she said. "Are you another friend of Hermione's?"

"He is," Cat replied. "This is Draco Malfoy." Part of Draco had wanted to make his own introductions, but a much larger part was secretly glad that Cat had done so for him – the nerves he'd been feeling all day had intensified exponentially when his brain had fully processed that this was Hermione's _mother,_ and he wasn't sure he could trust himself to speak just yet. Instead, he nodded his head politely and offered his hand to Dr. Granger with a "Pleased to meet you". The older woman accepted the handshake, her eyes narrowing a little at the mention of Draco's name. Draco swallowed – it was obvious that Hermione's mother knew who he was, and of all the things Hermione could have told her parents about him, the overwhelming majority weren't good.

"She's in the living room," Dr. Granger said, releasing Draco's hand and stepping back into the house. "Please come in."

Draco could see immediately why Hermione liked Star Cottage so much. Size difference aside – the Grangers' house was noticeably larger – the two homes were very similar in their cozy, welcoming atmospheres. The color palette was warm and inviting, and family pictures littered both sides of the entryway. Draco noticed that these pictures documented Hermione's entire life from infancy – birthdays and holidays, first day of school, various outings with her parents – and that they told a story of a small but truly happy family.

Draco and Cat followed Hermione's mother into the living room. The sight that met their eyes stopped Draco in his tracks, and he felt his heart wrench in his chest. Hermione sat curled up on the lap of a man whom Draco guessed had to be her father, and her swollen eyes and the dried tear tracks on her cheeks told him she'd been crying quite a bit. He didn't think he'd ever seen her so downtrodden, and he knew without a doubt that he never wanted to see her like this again.

"Hermione," he whispered. Hermione's father looked up at him, and Draco took a hesitant step forward.

"Please," Draco said. "You have every right to hate me for making your daughter cry, but please…let me speak with her. Let me fix this."

"You're Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes." Even if the consequences were dire, Draco knew that being honest was definitely the only way to go.

"Well, go on, then."

"Thank you, sir." Draco took a deep breath and stepped towards the couch, kneeling on the floor in front of Hermione.

"Hermione? Merlin, Hermione, I'm so sorry – I'm sorry for everything. You never deserved any of the pain I've caused you, whether it was calling you…that word in school, or not having the nerve to tell you how I really felt later on. I'm sorry that I've made you believe something that isn't true, just because I couldn't work up the courage to tell you otherwise – I guess that's what makes you the Gryffindor, and not me." Draco paused and sighed.

"Cat and I aren't together anymore," he said. "We haven't been for a while…and it's because of you. I…I couldn't in good faith stay with someone when I had feelings for someone else, could I? But I couldn't find a way to tell you, either, and it's hurt you so badly." He shook his head sadly. "That's the last thing I wanted to do."

"You and Cat aren't together anymore?" Hermione asked; Draco hated how hoarse her voice was, every fiber of his being knowing that it was his fault.

"No, we're not." This time, it was Cat who spoke. "And it was a mutual decision, love, so please don't think otherwise." Hermione gazed intently at her friend, seeing only sincerity in the other girl's eyes, and nodded.

"I believe you," she said quietly. She looked back to Draco. "I'm going to need some time to process this, though – it's a lot, and…"

"There's no need to explain," Draco cut in gently. He was disappointed, to be sure, but he wasn't surprised – it was far too much to expect Hermione to accept everything she'd just learned in a matter of minutes, not when he was sure she was still having doubts.

"There's no need," he repeated. "I just…you had to know the truth, and I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner." Hermione nodded again.

"Well, thank you for being honest with me, Draco. If nothing else, please know that I do appreciate that." She turned to Cat. "And you…there aren't words to express how amazing you are." Cat smiled softly and reached over to squeeze Hermione's hand.

'I could say the same to you," she said. Hermione gave a small smile.

"I think…I think I'd like to be alone for a little while, if that's alright," she said softly. "I'm sorry for being rude, I just…I need to think."

"You don't have to apologize," Cat said earnestly. "Really, you don't." Hermione swallowed heavily, her eyes beginning to water again.

"I promise I'll contact you both soon," she said. "Thank you for coming." She squeezed both of their hands, stood on slightly shaky legs, and slowly left the room.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more," Draco told Hermione's father once Hermione had gone and he'd torn his gaze away from the empty staircase.

"I don't like that you've hurt my daughter, but you're trying to fix things, which is more than most people could say," the older man replied. "Just see to it that things do get fixed, understood?"

"Of course, sir," Draco said at once. "Your daughter has done so much for me – I promise I'll make things right." John Granger regarded him shrewdly.

"You care about her, don't you?" he asked.

"Very much," Draco admitted quietly. "I've never seen her hurting like that before, and I never want to see her that way again – and I hate that I'm the cause of her pain."

"My Hermione pours her heart and soul into her pet projects – I know you were at the heart of her education reform, and if she saw something there, then you're worthy of a second chance. After all, who am I to argue with someone like her?" John Granger paused and chuckled. His tone became more serious as he added, "But just to be clear, just because there's a second chance doesn't mean there will be a third." Draco nodded solemnly.

"I understand, sir. Hermione's already given me far more chances than I deserve."

"As long as we're clear on that."

"Thank you both," Cat said to the Grangers. "Thank you for letting us talk to Hermione."

"She's lucky to have a friend like you, Cat," Hermione's mother replied. Cat shrugged.

"I rather think it's me who's the lucky one," she said. "We won't intrude on your hospitality any longer, but…thank you."

* * *

"Why'd you do it?"

"Hmm?"

"Why'd you do it? Why did you let Draco go? I thought you were head over heels for him."

It had been just about a week since 'the big reveal', and Cat and Hermione were having lunch in one of their favorite little shops near Cat's office. Cat, of course, had a feeling this conversation was coming and knew what she wanted to say, but she still paused to think about how to best word her answer while she cut her sandwich in half.

"I won't deny that Draco's charming," she began as she set aside her knife. "He's a perfect gentleman, he's funny in his own way, and being with him was wonderful…but it was never meant to last." Cat looked up and met Hermione's gaze. "I knew that from the start, Hermione – I could see when I first met Draco that you two had a special connection, and as I got to know him better, I started to recognize how much he cared about you. You could argue that it was wrong of me to ask him out, because I knew that ultimately, I wasn't the one for him – _you_ are."

"But you're hurting," Hermione argued. Cat shook her head.

"I was a little, at first," she said, "but not for long – we're still good friends, and that's all I wanted. Hermione, I work with people for a living – I _know_ that you two have gone through a lot together, a lot that most other people probably can't even begin to understand. I know you don't want to talk about it, and that's alright, but I also know that those experiences helped shape you into who you are today. You need someone who understands that, as does Draco. But I'm not pushing you two together simply because of that – there could be others who fit that criteria just as well. And I'm sure there are others who use weird words like 'Merlin' and 'griffin door', or whatever it was Draco said." In spite of herself, Hermione smiled. She vaguely remembered Draco slipping up and using some Wizarding words during his confession in her parents' living room, but it hadn't really occurred to her that Cat had heard them, or what she'd think.

"I'm for you giving it a go because I truly believe you have something special, sweetie. It's up to you what you want to do, of course, but I couldn't not say anything."

"Oh, Cat," Hermione said, her eyes watering as she reached across the table to clasp her friend's hand. "How can I ever repay you?"

"You don't owe me anything, Hermione," Cat insisted. "You're the best friend a girl could ask for, and that's more than enough. If you really insist, though, you can 'repay' me by asking Draco to lunch."

"Really?"

"Really. You'd be foolish to let him go, and you, Hermione Granger, are anything but foolish." Hermione giggled before rounding the table to hug her friend.

 _"You_ are the best friend a girl could ask for, Cat Bradley," she said. "Although I still feel bad for-"

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence, Hermione Jean," Cat said in her best stern voice. "There is nothing to feel bad about, end of story." She paused and winked. "Just be sure to invite me to the wedding."

 _"Cat!"_

* * *

Approximately a week after her lunch with Cat, Hermione was walking through the halls of the Ministry, only half thinking about her successful proposal and all the planning that had to be done before it was put into action. The rest of her mind was on Draco, and how she was going to contact him – because she'd finally decided to listen to Cat and follow her heart; she was going to ask Draco to lunch, and then they could go from there. She was torn on how to speak with him, however – sending an owl or ringing his mobile seemed too impersonal for a conversation like this, but how was she to let him know that she needed to speak with him? She'd been worrying over this question ever since her lunch with Cat, and she still didn't have a solution she deemed acceptable.

A solution came much sooner than she was expecting as she rounded the corner and nearly ran right into the man himself.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, not having expected to see him. "What are you doing here?" Draco held up a handful of parchment in response.

"Filing paperwork," he replied. "I take my final exams soon, and you have to start the application process for your license before that happens."

"That's wonderful!" Hermione said, smiling brightly. "Congratulations."

"Don't congratulate me just yet, Granger," Draco said with a slight laugh. "I still have to pass the exams."

"I'm sure you'll do brilliantly," Hermione assured him. She paused looked at him, knowing what she had to do next. This was the first time she'd seen him since the talk at her parents' house, and she was extremely nervous.

"Granger? You alright?" Draco asked, noticing the way she was lightly chewing her lower lip. Hermione swallowed heavily – this time, though, instead of running away, she grabbed ahold of her Gryffindor courage and nodded.

"Would you like to have lunch with me?" she asked. "It doesn't have to be today," she added hastily. "Just…someday when you're free?" Draco smiled softly.

"I would love to, Hermione," he said. "And as I've already filed this paperwork, it just so happens that I am indeed free for lunch today…only if you're also free for dinner on Friday."

"I actually have plans with the girls on Friday…but I could do Saturday," Hermione told him with a smile.

"Saturday it is, then," Draco declared. "But first, I believe I just promised you lunch. Shall we?" He offered his hand to Hermione and she took it, deliberately entwining their fingers instead of settling for a more casual handclasp.

"We shall."

* * *

 **A/N: And that's the end! Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ to all of you who've given this story some love - whether you reviewed every chapter or just followed  & read along, I truly appreciate every single one of you!**

 **For those of you who are sad to see this story end, I'm excited to say that there will be a sequel! I'm going to take a short break from posting to plan it out & start writing, as I have a bunch of ideas but am not quite sure which way everything's going to go just yet, but I'll be back very soon! I also have a couple of other projects in the works, so if you're interested, follow me so you don't miss out.**

 **Thank you again, everyone! As usual, JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R &R one last time, enjoy, & I hope to see you all again soon! :)**

 **Sammy**


	25. Author's Note - Sequel is Up!

Hi everyone!

My deepest apologies for the longer-than-intended hiatus - I didn't write _anything_ over the summer, which was just weird - but I'm back now! The first chapter of this story's sequel is now up - yay! It's called "Two Sides of the Same Coin" - hope to see a lot of you joining me for the second part of Draco  & Hermione's journey! :)

Sammy


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